In the Cards
by Idan
Summary: Minor spoilers for Blood Feud, Not One Red Cent, and The Crimson Ticket. Jane teases Lisbon about her poker skills, which leads to a conversation that surprises them both, spirals into plots and counter-plots, and leaves them facing a dilemma they never imagined, but might secretly want.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: No, there were no TV shows among my birthday presents. And I don't own Casablanca either.

**Summary**: Minor spoilers for 5x3, Not One Red Cent, and 5x1, The Crimson Ticket. Jane teases Lisbon about her poker skills, which leads to a conversation that surprises them both. Starts out as friendship but will wander into romantic territory before we're done.

**Author's Note: **There are already several great tags for Sunday's episode out there, but this story took me on a longer road. I hope to keep it to two or three chapters so it won't become The Story That Ate My Life (I had enough of that with A Change of Plan)!

mmm

Last night's poker game had been fun (and profitable), but Lisbon was paying for it now by trying to catch up on the case paperwork long after everyone else had gone home. Well, almost everyone. Jane was back to his old habit of haunting the attic like a mischievous ghost and making unexpected appearances at odd hours. But she didn't mind. She still recalled all too vividly how she'd missed him while he was gone, and knowing where he was freed her mind up to worry about other things.

Now he was demonstrating another old habit, turning up as if summoned by her thinking about him. "Do you need something, Jane?" she asked, looking up at him in the doorway.

"Well, as a matter of fact, you could satisfy my curiosity about something," he replied, coming into the office and perching on her desk.

She leaned back in her chair before realizing that he'd invaded her personal space on purpose. He was trying to throw her off balance for some reason. She sat forward again, determined not to let him. "About?" she prompted.

"The whole office is abuzz with stories about you fleecing the FBI in a poker game last night."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't fleece anybody. I went to build some goodwill, so fleecing would have been counterproductive. I played a good game and won a little money, that's all. Nothing remarkable, unless you count being in the same room with Bertram for three hours without anybody's job being in jeopardy."

He grinned. "Ah. Building goodwill on more than one front, I see."

"It's only a matter of time before you land me in hot water again. I'll take any goodwill I can get. "

"Wise of you." He gave her a charming smile, which probably would have worked as a distraction if she hadn't known him so well.

"Out with it, Jane. What do you want to know?"

"If you're such a card sharp, why don't I know about it? You never play poker with me." His fake pout was adorably comic, and she couldn't help smiling in response.

"I only like to play when there's a chance I'll win, or at least lose fair and square. Playing poker with you would just give you an excuse to irritate me, something do enough of already."

He couldn't dispute that. "It's nice that you can still surprise me after all these years, Lisbon."

But the slight crinkle around his eyes was saying something different, she realized. He'd slid back into his old habits and their routines like he'd never left, but underneath the surface normality was a riptide of uncertainty. They each kept checking to make sure the other hadn't changed too much, that they could still rely on each other. He didn't like finding out something new about her any more than she'd liked his change of footwear.

Beneath all that glib arrogance, Jane could be as vulnerable as the next person, she knew. Tonight she could see a little insecurity peeking out from behind his practiced composure, wanting to know that he still belonged, was still wanted and accepted after his long absence. She was touched, but she knew he'd reject any outright assurances.

"Why be surprised? I'm a cop who grew up with a bunch of guys. Of course I can play poker."

"True." He let out a sigh. "It was just so disheartening to have to tell all those people who approached me for tips that I had no hand in your mad poker skills."

She chuckled, picturing those conversations. "Well, that's not a hundred percent true, is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"Jane, you've been reading and misdirecting people pretty much every day for a decade now, and nine times out of ten I've been standing right next to you when you did it. I was bound to pick up a few things. Bertram's tell is so obvious I actually had to throw a few hands to keep from ruining the goodwill effort."

He grinned, seeming happy again. "So is this going to become a regular thing?"

"Maybe. Being further down on the career ladder, I have less free time for card games than the rest of them." She looked at him suspiciously. "Why? If you think I'm going to try sneaky interrogations with that crowd, think again. Goodwill is what I'm going for here, not the opposite."

"No, no," he said, completely failing to convince her. "I was just wondering if I was now going to have regularly scheduled time to lay the groundwork for my cunning plans without having to distract you first."

"Well if you're going to threaten me, I'll just have to keep you guessing."

He chuckled appreciatively, then sobered. "I know you know this, but just…be careful."

She let out a long sigh. This was the conversation she'd expected, the one he'd come in here to have. "Jane, I'm not going to make small talk about any leads we get on Red John over a poker game. How stupid would that be?"

"I'm not worried about that. Of course you wouldn't. It's just that this may be the stepping stone to other activities that might seem more harmless. Where you'd be more relaxed."

"In other words, the poker game and face time with the bigwigs might be the gateway to, horror of horrors, a date with Mancini?" She folded her arms and gave him her best "you're such an idiot" look. "So what? The rules still apply. Jane, honestly, you think you're the only one around here who thinks about these things? Have you not noticed that Rigsby's the only one of us with a life, that Grace and Cho and I have all but stopped dating? And even if we did date someone, it could never turn serious because there would always be that little nagging doubt. None of us are going to forget about O'Loughlin. None of us are going to spill any secrets during pillow talk. Any more than you did."

He grimaced a little to acknowledge her point. "It's natural to want to trust people, Lisbon. Especially people with whom you share some affinity, like others in law enforcement. And I know how tiring it can get having to suspect everyone around you except our little family. It just might be better to avoid temptation, is all I'm saying."

"I'm not going to shut everyone else on the planet out of my life just in case. I can't live like that."

"Fair enough." He seemed sad now, she thought. Was it because she was refusing to buy into his paranoia and validate his own choices? Or because he thought she was setting herself up for needless pain? Which, she had to admit, she might be.

She gentled her tone. "I promise you, I'll be careful."

"Good." He smiled, trying for a lighter note again. "And if you ever do want some poker tips, I'm more than happy to show you."

"You're always saying I'm such a terrible liar. What makes you think I'd be a good cheat?" she asked, half-serious.

He gave her a long, measuring look. "You've gotten better at the lying. You even fooled me recently."

"I have?"

"When you told me you wouldn't listen in on me and Lorelei."

He sounded annoyed, but she suspected it was more about his failure to read her correctly than her hearing what he'd said and done. "That wasn't a lie exactly. I mostly meant it at the time. But then I just couldn't go through with it. Anyway, you lied to me first. Since when do you need to know you're telling the truth to sell it? You just didn't want me to rein you in or take you off the case. As if I would."

He dropped his gaze for a moment, then sighed. "All right. I apologize for that. I shouldn't have underestimated you."

"You didn't underestimate me. You just didn't think you could trust me all the way to the end. After all I did, Jane!" The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them. "And now you come in here to warn me I might be hanging out with Red John's latest mole, as if you don't think I realize it. If you won't trust me, at least don't treat me like an idiot!"

He let her words hang in the air for a few seconds before responding. "I do trust you—"

"Saying you trust me isn't the same as acting like it," she retorted. "Put up or shut up, Jane."

He chewed on his bottom lip. "See, this—this is what I'm having trouble with. You've said variations of that to me before, but I never had the sense it was an ultimatum. Now I do. You've changed, Lisbon. I know it's my fault," he added quickly to forestall her reply. "You worried about me all that time I was gone, and now you wonder if I'm worth it. Because we both know I can't be trusted not to do something just as drastic if I think it'll give me a shot at Red John. You look at me differently now, and I hate it, but I know I deserve it."

"I don't…feel any differently about you, Jane," she said carefully.

"But you feel differently about how you feel about me," he replied quietly. "You feel the need to make changes. Your makeup, your hair, your clothes, playing poker with the bigwigs…. You're starting fresh. Next you'll start thinking it's time to step away."

She wondered if he had a point. She hadn't examined her own motives, but she'd been vaguely aware since his return that she needed some kind of reserve to draw on for the next time he hurled them both over a cliff. Still, she was not going to abandon him. If she didn't stand by him, who would?

She shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you should." His voice was so quiet now that she could barely hear him, especially since he was looking down at his hands. "You know you should. And I should let you. But I can't."

"I'm not asking you to," she said firmly.

He finally broke the silence with, "Maybe not today. And maybe not tomorrow. But soon…."

She grinned, relieved to be able to put the conversation back on a lighter note. "You do a terrible Bogart impression." She reached out and put her hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. "It's okay, Jane," she said, willing him to read the truth in her eyes as he finally looked at her. "Just…can we keep the unpleasant surprises to a minimum? We were doing so well there for a while."

Before he'd started laying the groundwork for his breakdown. She saw him realize it at the same time she did. Of course she'd been having trouble; his hidden plots were making her subconscious brace for another impact.

"All right," he pretended to grumble. "But it's so much less fun that way."

"Think of it as your contribution to my continued sanity," she said dryly. "And who knows? If you behave yourself, I might give you a chance to win some of my poker money one of these days."

"Oooh," he said in mock excitement, getting to his feet. "Can there be drinking, too? I've always suspected you were a giggly drunk."

"Jane, you don't even want to know what you'd have to do to find that out," she retorted.

"I can guess, but you don't really want me to fill out all my own complaint paperwork, do you? You know you'd just end up doing it over again."

"You could try not generating any."

"Omelets, eggs, etc." He waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea. "I'll leave you to it."

She bent over her work again, but looked up a minute later to find him in the doorway looking at her with a peculiar intensity. "You know that if you ever need my help, with poker or anything, all you have to do is ask," he said.

She smiled. "I know, Jane."

"Good." He nodded to himself and left.

And she did know, she reflected. In fact, she had to remember to be careful what she asked for around Jane. It took only a passing comment about wishing the FBI would disappear to prompt him to commit a whole string of illegal acts and frame a (well, not innocent, but not guilty of the crime they were investigating) man to grant her wish. As long as Red John wasn't involved, she could rely on him, although she might disapprove of his methods. The thought was comforting. Mostly.

Although wondering what he thought she would need his help with in the near future was distinctly NOT comforting.

The next morning, she found half a dozen origami flowers on her desk, the petals made from playing cards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own a slightly hurricane-battered house but no TV shows. Wanna trade, Mr. Heller? No, I didn't think so.

**Summary**: Minor spoilers for Not One Red Cent, The Crimson Ticket, and Blood Feud. Jane teases Lisbon about her poker skills, which leads to a conversation that surprises them both. Starts out as friendship but will wander into romantic territory before we're done.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay. There was a business trip and then a hurricane and, well, my Muse decided to go on vacation for it all. Now that we're speaking again, hopefully there are still be a few of you out there interested in this story!

mmm

**Chapter 2**

Lisbon managed to make the next two poker games in a row, and both times Jane pestered her for a report under the guise of relaying the office gossip. It seemed that an alarming number of their coworkers had taken an interest in the game. According to Jane, she was becoming something of a folk hero. Of course, she had to allow for a certain amount of hyperbole, considering the source.

"I hate to keep disappointing you, but nobody's mentioned you," she told him. "I'll be sure to let you know when they do, all right?"

"Thank you. Tonight might be the night," he said cheerfully.

"There's no game tonight."

"No, but you finally agreed to go out for drinks with Mancini."

She stared at him. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged. "It's obvious. You took more time with your hair this morning, and you're wearing the expensive perfume, which you only do when you have a date. I'm betting if I looked in your desk drawer, I'd find your little makeup bag. When are you going to stop being surprised that I notice these things, Lisbon?"

"When you stop trying to surprise me, I guess."

"Speaking of which, did you enjoy the last one?" He leaned back in his chair and grinned.

Lisbon frowned, trying to figure out what he was alluding to. "This week has been unusually short on surprises."

"Exactly. I was making a point."

"Which was?"

"I behaved impeccably all through the Schneider case, despite the great tedium involved. But instead of being rewarded for my good behavior, I had to suffer through you asking about my health every half hour, Grace offering to be my amateur therapist if I felt the need to talk, and Cho and Rigsby dragging me to boys' night out. Though I must say that was by far the most amusing approach to my perceived problem. The look on Cho's face when the karaoke started was priceless."

She chuckled along with him. "Did you sing?"

"Lisbon," he chided. "They were trying to help me. Why would I repay that kindness with torture? So, which of the local watering holes will be honored with your presence this evening?"

"Right, like I'm going to tell you," she all but snorted.

"Now Lisbon. When have I ever interfered in your infrequent attempts at romance?"

"Never," she admitted. "That I know of, at least. But in your mind, this is not a romance, it's a trap for a potential mole. So no, I am not telling you where we're going. I do not need backup to have drinks with Mancini. Now, you may not have anything productive to do, but I need to get some work done."

"All right, I know when I'm not wanted," he sighed, heading for the door.

She waited until he was actually in the doorway before saying, "Jane. Call me around 8:30 in case I need an excuse to leave." His answering smile was contagious, but she tried to give hers a sarcastic twist. "Unless you don't have time, what with all the brooding and plotting."

"For you, Lisbon, I will make time," he promised.

mmm

By the time 8:30 rolled around she had almost forgotten her instructions to Jane. Mancini was a little cocky for her taste, but he told funny stories and urged her to tell some of hers, so he was generally good company. Unfortunately, most of her funny stories involved Jane, and they could be funny or appalling – or both all at once – depending on your point of view.

When her cell rang, she made a point of rolling her eyes at the caller ID before answering. "Somebody better be dead, Jane. Preferably you."

"Sorry to disappoint," he said cheerfully. "So, have you guys talked about me yet?"

"Right, because we officers of the law have nothing else we could possibly talk about. Did you need something, or are you just being annoying on principle?"

"Just following orders, Boss. Do you need an excuse? Because I'm about ninety percent certain I could get myself arrested in the next ten minutes."

Her tone sharpened reflexively. "No, Jane!"

"All right, then. You have a fabulous night, Lisbon. See you in the morning. Oh, and I know some excellent hangover remedies if you need one."

"That won't be necessary. Good night, and try to stay out of trouble for eight or nine hours, all right?"

"No promises." She could hear the grin in his voice as he hung up.

"High maintenance, no surprise," Mancini remarked. "How do you put up with that?"

"He closes cases," Lisbon replied. "We all have our crosses to bear, but he does great things for our closure rate. Don't you guys have any eccentric genius types over at the FBI?"

"Genius?" Mancini echoed in disbelief. "Is that what you think he is?"

"Maybe more like Rain Man," Lisbon mused. "But as long as he keeps closing my cases, I don't actually care."

"Isn't that a risk for your team?"

Lisbon took another drink and thought about her answer. If Mancini was interested, she didn't mind giving him a little misinformation to gladden Jane's paranoid heart. Her real feelings about Jane were not open for discussion with anyone. Even herself, most of the time.

"Not really. Jane's used to us. He doesn't want to break in a new team, so he takes that into account when he's coming up with his cunning ruses. Or, at least, once they start going pear shaped. Or, sometimes, after we all think we're past the point of no return. But he hasn't gotten us fired yet, so we'll keep solving cases and taking bad guys off the street until he does."

"Wow. That's some dedication to the job you have there, Lisbon. Do they give out martyrdom awards at the CBI?"

"No, or I'd have a roomful by now. So, come on, you must have some eccentrics in the FBI."

"Not so much. The federal bureaucracy doesn't leave a lot of room for them. Which is why we find it so strange that you guys tolerate it. There are all kinds of theories about why. My favorite is that he must have the goods on Bertram."

Lisbon smiled into her drink. "God, I wish. That would make my job so much easier. Let me guess, the other theory is that I've succumbed to his Svengali-like powers?"

"That, or he's really, really good in bed."

Lisbon choked on her drink and quickly converted it into a light laugh. "Jane is like my brother, Gabe. A slightly deranged, way-too-clever-for-his-own-good one who rarely listens to his sister's wise advice."

"Really. That's not the vibe I get from you two." His expression was skeptical, and interestingly, it didn't include the relief that most of the guys she'd dated displayed on hearing that little story.

She shrugged. "Doesn't make it less true. Do we have to talk about Jane all night? Because I spend my days dealing with him, and I prefer having my nights off."

"Sorry," Mancini said. "Another round?"

mmm

Jane brought Lisbon an extra large coffee the next morning, settling into the chair across the desk with his usual cup of tea. "So?"

"So?" she echoed innocently.

"Come on, Lisbon. After the phone call, you had to have talked about me a little."

She sighed. "Yes. Let's see. He asked if you kept your job by blackmailing Bertram or sleeping with me, and I told him I thought of you as my crazy brother."

Jane grinned. "Let me guess: he also asked how you put up with me, and you trotted out your usual answer, that I close cases. Really, Lisbon, don't you get tired of that old trope? Do you never feel the urge to rhapsodize about my sparkling wit or confess that you like to have someone around who's easy on the eyes to make up for all the ugliness you see on a daily basis?"

"Why Jane, where did all this newfound modesty come from?" she said dryly. "In the interests of full disclosure, a new and innovative idea I'd very much like to get used to, I may also have compared you to Rain Man."

Jane came perilously close to snorting tea out his nose.

Lisbon grinned and continued, "So if he is Red John's mole, he now has an entirely new take on our relationship."

"Brilliant, Lisbon. Wounding, but brilliant."

Lisbon went back to her work, since Jane seemed content to sip his tea and think his own thoughts. She expected him to relocate to her couch, which was certainly more comfortable, but he didn't. She'd noticed lately that he seemed to want to be close to her, if not actually in her personal space. Whether that was a deliberate signal of some kind or just an unconscious expression of his anxiety that she might be pulling away, she wasn't sure. She supposed she could try reassuring him and see if that helped, though she had a hard time wrapping her brain around the concept. He usually only needed encouragement when Red John slipped through their fingers, although the last time hadn't been that long ago, so maybe it was that after all. Or maybe he'd had time to process everything and was a little anxious about the whole "Bring me the head of Teresa Lisbon" thing. God knows she was, when she let herself think about it. Which she did as seldom as possible.

Jane suddenly spoke again. "I like your campaign of misinformation idea, Lisbon. I'm not sure it's going to accomplish much, though."

"Why not? Is it so hard to believe that after all the crap you've pulled recently, I might take stock and decide to become a little less personally invested?" The sentence was barely out of her mouth before she realized how much more it said than she'd intended.

Jane shook his head. "Not at all. It's certainly crossed my mind."

"Well, make it uncross your mind," she replied.

He took another sip of tea. "My point is, Red John isn't all that concerned with what you think about me, as far as I can tell. Because even if you were to wash your hands of me entirely, you'd still be important to me, and I'm the one he wants to manipulate."

"Ah, yes, I was forgetting that you're the star of this show and I'm merely a supporting actor." She rolled her eyes and went back to looking at the monitor.

"No, no, Lisbon. You're definitely the leading lady," he smiled.

Her response was cut off as Cho stuck his head in the door. "We're up. Homeless guy found a body in a dumpster at the edge of a state park."

"Great," Lisbon sighed. "All right, let's get going."

mmm

Jane loved nature and hated dumpsters, so his interaction with the park ranger jealously guarding the scene was brief, but spectacular. After the consultant wandered nonchalantly away in response to Lisbon's death glare, she summoned up her most soothing tone. "I apologize, Ranger Simmons. Mr. Jane does not speak on behalf of the CBI, and as fellow state employees, we have the greatest respect for the work you do. Your treatment of the crime scene was correct and enormously helpful."

He was only partly mollified. "How do you put up with that jerk?"

"He closes cases." Jane was right; she was tired of the standard answer. On impulse, she added, "And he's nice to look at."

Too late, she realized Jane had wandered back within earshot. Cho, never looking up from his examination of the ground around the dumpster, said, "Yeah, but I'm not wild about that thing his hair is doing lately."

Lisbon could have hugged him. Rigsby looked puzzled. "He's changed his hair?" He stared at Jane, looking for differences.

Lisbon didn't dare look at Jane. She could feel the waves of unholy glee coming off him from ten feet away. Ranger Simmons looked puzzled and slightly alarmed at the change in conversation, so Lisbon said soothingly, "He's kind of like our mascot, Ranger. Don't worry about him."

"Right," the park ranger said uncertainly. "I'll, uh, I'll be in my truck if you need me."

"Mascot, Lisbon?" Jane said indignantly.

Rigsby said, "More like a poster boy for what not to do at a crime scene. Seriously, we could make a whole library of training videos based on stuff you've done. Drinking evidence, stealing evidence to plant elsewhere—"

"—walking over footprints at the crime scene," Cho said pointedly.

Jane looked down and took a few steps back. "Sorry, Cho. And what's wrong with my hair?"

"It's weird," Cho replied.

"Could you be more specific?" Jane asked.

"Could we get back to the crime solving?" Lisbon intervened.

"You started it," Jane pointed out.

"And I'm ending it. You and Cho can swap haircare tips later."

"Not as long as I'm armed," Cho murmured.

mmm

The whole mess with Rigsby's father cast a pall over the team, and Lisbon skipped that week's poker game and begged off a not-quite-date with Mancini with the excuse that she had extra paperwork to do and a funeral to go to. Rigsby at first declared that he wasn't having a funeral for his father, who thought religion was nonsense and had always declared that he didn't care if his son just tossed his body in a dumpster after he was dead.

"But funerals aren't for the dead. They're for the living," Grace pointed out gently.

"I'm not religious either," Rigsby said. "And I don't want to have to meet all those deadbeats he called friends."

"Then don't invite them," Cho said.

"Who else would come?"

"We would," Grace said. "Of course."

"Yeah," Cho added.

They both turned to look at Jane, who was eavesdropping from his couch. He stood and walked over to them. "I'm not a big fan of funerals myself. Rigsby, what would you say to a wake instead? We'll meet at a bar and skip the part where we exchange horror stories about our parents."

"Or," Grace added, "we could meet at a restaurant and you could bring Ben."

Rigsby began to look less harassed. "I guess we could do that. I don't know if I'm going to want to talk about Dad, though."

"Nobody will make you," Jane promised.

"But if you want to, that's okay," Grace said.

"And you know the rule, right?" Cho added. "It's okay to cry as long as it's into a beer."

Lisbon had come over to see what was afoot; she always got a little nervous when Jane huddled with the rest of the team. "When did you turn into a country song?" she teased Cho. "What's up? Are you going out for beers without me?"

"Of course not," Rigsby said hurriedly. "I was just telling them that there's not going to be a funeral, so I guess we're having a wake instead."

"A fine Irish tradition," Lisbon said with a gentle smile. "Just tell me where and when. I'll buy the first round. Hey, Grace, you have a minute?"

"Sure, Boss." Grace followed her into her office, looking puzzled as she closed the door behind her.

"We should do something for Rigsby. If there's not going to be a funeral, flowers are out. I can't imagine he'd want them at home. Any ideas?" Lisbon asked, sitting behind her desk.

"I've been thinking about that. I know it's not traditional, but maybe something for Ben? He'd like that better than anything we could buy for him."

"That sounds fine to me. Get Cho's input—he might have some ideas too."

"Not Jane's?" Grace smiled as she headed for the door.

"Depends on how brave you're feeling, I guess," Lisbon smiled back. But when Grace was gone, Lisbon sighed. Other people sent flowers or brought casseroles when a friend's loved one was killed—Patrick Jane served up vengeance on a silver platter. It was touching, in a way, since it was the one thing he hadn't been able to obtain for himself. But she wondered if he ever thought about the long-term consequences, if that kind gesture would end up being a burden to Rigsby's conscience.

She also wondered what it said about Jane's own thinking. She'd hoped that the whole Timothy Carter mess had made him rethink his plans, but he probably thought the chance of mistaken identity in Moss' case was negligible.

Oh, who was she kidding? She'd sent him off to meet Lorelei and Red John with a melon and a gun. Jane hadn't changed his mind. And Lorelei's disappearance had proven that they were up against someone who could work inside the system. Even if she got her way and someday arrested Red John, what were the odds he'd ever make it to trial? She didn't want to admit that Jane's plan might be the only realistic one, but she couldn't help thinking it sometimes.

Jane poked his head in her door. "Hey," he said. "I was thinking about taking the day off tomorrow, since we're not on a case at the moment."

Lisbon blinked, running the sentence back through her mind to make sure she hadn't misunderstood. "You're taking a day off?" she repeated slowly.

"Yes. Just one, I promise. You can call me all you want to make sure I'm not in trouble," he grinned.

"Where are you going?"

"It's my understanding I don't have to answer to you for my actions or whereabouts while I'm on leave," he said piously.

A stress headache began thumping against her skull. "Jane. Promise me you're not going looking for trouble."

"I promise. My itinerary doesn't include anything illegal. And I'll be back on my couch in the morning. You'll hardly have time to miss me."

So not true—her stomach was already tying itself in knots. She hoped it didn't show on her face. "I'm calling you when I get into work, and if you don't answer I'm having Grace track your cell phone," she warned him.

Jane came all the way into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him. "Hey. I'm coming back. And I'll answer my phone."

"Okay." She swallowed, trying to calm down.

"I'd invite you to come with me, but it's not something you'd enjoy," he said. "At least, not the way I do it."

"Now you're trying to make me nervous," she accused.

"I seem to do it without trying," he reflected. He scrutinized her for a few moments, frowning slightly. "What can I do to make you okay with this?" he finally asked.

"You could try telling me what you're up to. I might be shocked into acceptance." She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, waiting to see what deflection he'd offer.

"I'm going to run over to Nevada-not Vegas, don't worry-and work on my contribution to the savings bond we're buying for Ben."

Lisbon blinked at him. She hadn't expected him to actually tell her the truth. "Poker?"

"Maybe a little blackjack too. Want to come with me? We'd have to play at separate tables, of course. You could up your contribution too." He seemed to warm to the idea as he spoke.

"Is that what we're doing instead of flowers? That was fast." But perfect, of course. They couldn't do anything Rigsby would like better than setting something aside for his son's future. "Whose idea was that?"

"Uh, well." He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "I used to buy one for Charlotte every birthday. You can't start saving too early." He looked down at his feet, then back up at her with a slightly strained smile. "With the pittance you pay me, I figured Rigsby needs all the help he can get with the college fund."

She smiled. "You're probably right, although I'd like to point out that I don't have much say in the compensation levels around here. That's sweet, Jane. I'd wish you luck if I thought you needed it."

"You don't want to come?"

"As much as I appreciate the invitation, no. But if I give you some seed money, will you add to my contribution too?"

"It would be my pleasure." His smile was dazzling. "Wow. So this is what happens when I tell you the truth without making you beat it out of me?"

Lisbon realized that her headache had vanished. She probably looked a lot more relaxed, too, now that she knew this wasn't Red John related. "Yes. So much better for my health and sanity. But put your phone on vibrate so you don't miss my call if a case comes up."

"Don't worry, Lisbon. You've filled up my voicemail enough for one lifetime. I'll answer."

Lisbon dug in her pockets and handed him all the cash she had. "Is that enough, or should I hit an ATM?"

"It'll be enough when I get done with it," he grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own anything to do with The Mentalist. Obviously I need to start buying lottery tickets.

**Summary**: Minor spoilers for Not One Red Cent, The Crimson Ticket, and Blood Feud. Jane teases Lisbon about her poker skills, which leads to a conversation that surprises them both. Starts out as friendship but will wander into romantic territory before we're done.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter—I'm glad you enjoyed it! I also really appreciate those who have favorited and followed this story. The inspiration keeps me going!

mmm

**Chapter 3**

Lisbon anticipated a quiet, productive day spent catching up on paperwork without Jane interrupting her. She hadn't counted on his steady stream of text messages being almost as distracting as his presence. They began at seven in the morning with _Good morning Lisbon, I hope you are taking the time to eat breakfast. I found a diner on my way but the eggs are mediocre at best._

An hour later: _Is there a CHP convention somewhere? I haven't seen a single one._

_I am not fixing any tickets for you,_ she texted back.

It was nearly two hours later before he sent:_ I'm here. Wish me luck._

_All of a sudden you need luck?_ she responded.

He quieted down while he was playing, of course, and she did manage to clear more than half the stack of files on her desk by the time he called in the late afternoon. "Mission accomplished," he said. "I'm on my way home."

"How much?"

"More than enough. Since we're limited in how much we can put into savings bonds, you'll all have some left over to spend how you like. I'll bring everything in to the office tomorrow, unless you want to meet up tonight. I should be back around nine."

"I have plans," she said. "Tomorrow will be fine."

There was a pause before he said, "So what outrageous tales are you planning to tell Mancini about me this time?"

"It's going to be hard to top the last set," she admitted. "Any suggestions?"

He chuckled. "I wouldn't dare. I look forward to hearing what you come up with, though. Do you want me to interrupt you again?"

"No need," she said.

"You don't want me to text you that I made it home safe?" The forlorn note in his voice was deliberate, she knew.

"Actually, yes. Otherwise I'll probably wake up in the middle of the night with hideous visions of you trapped in the desert with that broken-down contraption of yours."

"Aw, that's sweet, Lisbon. I'll let you get back to your paperwork in the meantime."

"Drive safe," she admonished, without any hope that he would.

mmm

The next morning, Lisbon was glad for the distracting flurry of activity surrounding Jane's parcelling out cash to his teammates before Rigsby arrived. Grace and Cho had entrusted their contributions to Jane as well and were thrilled to max out their savings bond purchases for the calendar year at a tiny fraction of the cost to themselves. Cho even smiled, albeit briefly. "Nice job, man," he said.

"Yes, thank you, Jane," Grace said, beaming. "He's going to love this. Maybe we could do it for Ben's birthdays as well, you know, make it a regular thing."

Lisbon's gaze went to Jane in concern, remembering how he'd told her he always bought savings bonds for his daughter's birthdays. But his smile didn't slip even a little. It made her sad to realize how much practice he'd had concealing his feelings.

"If you're going to put me to work on a regular basis, Grace, I might have to start charging you," Jane said cheerfully.

"Do you want a tip?" She looked down at the brown paper bag of hundred dollar bills in her hand.

"No, thank you." His smile seemed a little more genuine. "I made my own tip this time. Use the extra to buy yourself something nice."

She shook her head. "Maybe I'll save it for your birthday."

"Yeah," Cho said. "We could buy you some new shoes."

"No!" Jane looked horrified now. "I'll buy my own shoes, thank you very much. Ah, good morning, Rigsby!"

Everyone turned back to their desks to stash their bags of cash, except Lisbon, who said, "Good morning, Rigsby. Well, I'd better put my lunch in the fridge," and headed for the break room, veering into her office instead once Rigsby's back was turned. She sat down at her desk and put the bag in her lap, glancing into it as she slid her bottom drawer open. Then she froze.

On top of the neatly banded stacks of bills was a small box. She glanced back at the bullpen, where Jane was chatting with Rigsby. She was pretty sure he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, though.

She carefully picked the box up, only then noticing the slip of folded paper beneath it. She took the time to read the note first, hoping she didn't look as tense as she felt. Surely he wasn't going to make her turn down another beautiful but inappropriate gift?

_Lisbon, _

_These didn't come from the casino gift store, so they weren't expensive. And I used your winnings to pay for them, so they aren't technically a gift, either. Wear them in good health._

_Jane_

She didn't believe a word of it as she nervously lifted the box lid to find a pair of modest but perfect emerald stud earrings. They looked like something she might buy for herself, but she'd bet they were the real thing. She could wear them anywhere, and she appreciated that he'd chosen earrings, since she rarely wore a necklace other than her cross and bracelets tended to get damaged while tackling suspects.

That's what was making her throat close up, she realized. The earrings weren't special in themselves, but the thought behind them was. They were proof of how well he knew her, just like he'd known she wouldn't spend the extra money on herself.

She wondered if he'd regret the gift when he had a moment to realize she'd spent part of last night making out with Mancini.

mmm

Since they still hadn't caught a new case, Jane spent most of the morning going through cold case files to keep his boredom at bearable levels. Lisbon was surprised he hadn't come in to be thanked for the earrings, but apparently he was waiting for her to come to him.

She slid the little box into her jacket pocket and went to the restroom, where she switched her cubic zirconia studs for the emeralds. Then she went over to Jane's couch. "Anything yet?" she asked.

He looked up, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to draw his attention there. His grin was immediate and genuine. "Um, nothing definite. I think I'm about to hatch a hunch, though."

"Really? Which case?"

"The Kessler murder. I think we may need to go talk to the housekeeper again. Something's just not sitting right about her story."

Much as she appreciated Jane's effort to make up for lost time by reviewing the cases they hadn't closed during his absence, this was the sort of vague fishing expedition that usually ended in trouble. "When this hunch of yours hatches and is fully-fledged, let me know."

"I will." His expression sobered, and she realized that drawing attention to her ear had also given him a good look at her neck and the small mark there. "So, did you enjoy your evening?"

"I did," she replied. "But I cut it short. I think I'll make him work for it a little. His ego could use a trim."

She wasn't sure why she felt the need to tell him that, and he seemed a little nonplussed as well. But after a second, he was grinning again. "If anyone can teach him a thing or two, it's you, Lisbon. Good for you." He suddenly cut his eyes over at Grace, then returned his gaze to her and said, "After all the practice you get keeping me in line, I'm sure Mancini will pose no challenge at all."

She suddenly realized how their conversation could have sounded before he brought names into it and fought against the inevitable blush. The last thing she needed was to add more fuel to the gossip surrounding them, which had been going full steam ahead since Jane's return. "He does strike me as slightly more trainable than a certain consultant who shall remain nameless," she said. "It makes a nice change."

"Good. You deserve a nice change, Lisbon." He gave her one of those looks that told her he wanted her to take him seriously.

"Thank you, Jane," she said sincerely, reaching up to touch the earring so he'd know what she was actually thanking him for.

"My pleasure, Lisbon," he said airily, dropping his gaze back to the file in his lap.

mmm

The wake for Rigsby's father was more enjoyable than Lisbon expected. They met at a nice but kid-friendly restaurant and enjoyed a good meal and a few drinks while they all got some cuddle time with Ben, who seemed to have inherited his father's easygoing nature. Lisbon sat between Jane and Grace, and after the meal was over the three of them competed to see whose lap was Ben's favorite. Jane had a good run, since he made the goofiest faces, but eventually Ben reached over toward Lisbon.

"Ah," Jane said, "I see you are a young man of discriminating tastes. Very well." He passed Ben over, but the boy was no sooner in Lisbon's lap than he grabbed a handful of her long hair, babbling happily as he tugged on it. Lisbon winced, but before she could coax Ben into letting go, Jane reached over to tickle him. Ben shrieked with laughter and released his grip, and Jane moved his hand to sweep Lisbon's hair back over her shoulder and out of Ben's reach, fingers brushing against her neck and shoulder. She smiled at him in thanks, and he smiled back.

A strange sensation took hold of her, like déjà vu from a life that never was. _This is what it would be like if we—_

She stomped down hard on the thought and made a funny face at Ben, hoping Jane hadn't noticed.

mmm

On her way home, she couldn't get that moment out of her head. It was as if she'd momentarily slipped into someone else's life, someone who lived in a parallel universe where Jane's devotion was to her and not Red John, where they were building a life together instead of hurtling down a twisting road to heartbreak and disaster. She felt a piercing sense of loss, no matter how firmly she told herself it was silly to be sad about something that had never happened. Would never happen.

Chocolate. She needed chocolate. This had to be a hormonal thing, because she was fine with her life. She didn't waste time pining for things she was unlikely ever to have. She liked living alone. She couldn't even imagine living with Jane, much less attempting some kind of white picket fence life with him. Even if she were to want that, Jane had entirely different goals that were almost guaranteed to eliminate the possibility.

She had to admit that she sometimes regretted her life didn't include children, especially when she was around them. But the pull wasn't strong enough to make her radically change her life, and even during the fleeting moments when it was, she didn't see how she could possibly do so with Red John at large. Even if she walked away from her job, she'd still have a target on her back because she was important to Jane. And she supposed it was possible she might be able to make herself walk away from him someday, but she didn't think that would be enough to make him indifferent to her fate if Red John threatened her. Jane was right; her feelings weren't the issue. His were. And Jane didn't let go of people easily if he really cared about them. He could drive her nuts, get her in six kinds of trouble before breakfast, and break her heart with no apology, but he would never stand by and let Red John hurt her, now or twenty years from now.

She was well and truly stuck. It was worse than marriage because divorce wasn't a possibility. The only bright side—and it wasn't that bright—was that she could still date if she wanted.

She might as well try to enjoy her sole perk, she decided. She would call Mancini when she got home.

mmm

Jane rarely suffered from a lack of concentration, especially where Red John was concerned, but when he got back to his drab motel room that night, he found himself staring blankly at his notebook instead of coming up with a new angle on his search for Lorelei. For some reason he couldn't stop thinking of that odd little moment. He tried to tell himself it was just a flashback to Charlotte's babyhood, when she'd sometimes pull on Angela's hair and he'd intervene, but then why was he thinking of how soft Lisbon's hair was and what it would feel like to run his fingers through it, to have it trail across his bare chest—

With an annoyed frown, he abruptly got up to make some tea. Obviously his self-control needed bolstering. He wondered if this recent inability to shut off unwanted thoughts was because long-dormant parts of his brain had been awakened during his night with Lorelei, or if it was a product of how much he'd missed Lisbon during his self-imposed exile. Sometimes he found himself staring at her just for the pleasure of being able to do so. He hoped he'd never again come up with a plan to catch Red John that involved giving her up, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to make himself do it twice.

He had to stop thinking about her this way. His only thoughts about Lisbon should be how to protect her from whatever was coming. Because he believed he was getting close to Lorelei and therefore Red John, and he didn't want Red John thinking about Lisbon, even for a second. Whatever happened to him, whatever happened to Red John, Lisbon must come through it safely. And the best way to ensure that was to keep her out of it, as completely as possible.

Mancini might be a problem if he were involved, but so far there were no indications that he posed a threat. And he served as a distraction for Lisbon, which reduced the tension between them. Jane might be determined to keep her away from his quest, but he didn't like making her unhappy. She would let him do what he needed to do, but she would worry, would fret that he didn't trust her. He wanted to keep that to a minimum.

The electric kettle began to boil, and he poured the water into his teacup and began the soothing ritual of dunking the tea bag. He could do this, he reassured himself. He would focus on tracking down Red John and stop wasting time with pointless fantasies. Her soft, silky hair, her warm skin, and the delicious way she smelled were irrelevant data points. He would file them away in his memory palace and get on with the work.

Ten minutes later, he found himself having to repeat the stern lecture to himself. He clicked on the television, hoping to drown out his own thoughts for a while until his subconscious gave up on trying to get through to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing in here you'd envy.

**Author's Note: **Blink-and-you'll miss it spoiler for Red fic is now getting off the Season 5 bus and remaining firmly in its happy little Volker-less universe. I have no idea where the show is going but I have the anxious conviction I won't like it, so I'm going to pretend it's not happening. Because that usually works so well for me. Yep.

mmm

**Chapter 4**

Lisbon slammed the car door harder than necessary and turned on the ignition, not even waiting for Jane to finish buckling his seat belt before backing up. When she had gotten out of the driveway and could safely spare some attention from the road, she snapped, "Seriously, Jane?"

"I was working the case," he explained, as if not noticing her anger.

She imitated his voice badly, on purpose, as she quoted him. "I'd call you a jackass, except jackasses are more interesting than you are."

"And it was obvious he didn't care about being a jackass, only being called uninteresting. The man is proud of his jackassery, Lisbon. He craves attention and he has no compunction about how he gets it. A prime suspect if ever there was one." He settled back into his seat with the air of someone who has made his point irrefutably.

"Jane, I could say the same things about you," she pointed out.

"But you would be wrong, and you know it. It's not my socially questionable behavior I'm proud of, it's the results when they help us with the case. Which they nearly always do. It's behavior with a purpose, not merely attention seeking."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Except when it's just because you're bored and you find other people's anger amusing."

"Lisbon, your anger is the only kind I find truly amusing. And that's just because it's the only time your reactions aren't filtered through your formidable socialization. I mean honestly, 'sheep dip'?" He snickered. "You're a cop and that's the best you can do?"

"Keep it up and you'll hear some new words all right," she muttered.

"Fire away." He grinned at her.

"Not if you're going to enjoy it." She kept her eyes on the road, trying to discourage any more conversation.

Jane looked out the window and didn't attempt to continue teasing her. Lisbon hoped he was thinking about the case, but she knew it was far more likely he was thinking about how to find Lorelei. So she was taken aback when he remarked, "We are all at the mercy of our subconscious. All those needs and desires we won't acknowledge or admit to, all the weaknesses we try and fail to overcome."

She had no idea what to say to that. Was he talking about the case? Lorelei? Himself? Silence was definitely the safest response, she decided, though she couldn't resist a quick glance at him.

"We humans are hard wired to seek out connection. Touch produces a biochemical reaction that can boost our immune systems, lengthen our lives, and alter our moods," he continued, still in that detached musing tone.

Lisbon was only mildly surprised when he reached out and took her right hand off the steering wheel, grasping it lightly in his. She adjusted her other hand to more comfortably steer by itself. "You're trying to alter my mood by interfering with my driving?" she grumbled.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Lack of touch has corresponding negative effects."

She swallowed her retort that she was getting plenty of touch these days, since she was actually dating. Sort of. If that was the conversation he was trying to start, he'd have to try harder. Or maybe he really was talking about himself, she thought. Who did Jane have to touch, after all? Oh, he shook hands and even occasionally hugged people when he found reason to, but when he reached out for comfort, it was always to her. He knew she knew that, so he knew she wouldn't pull away. He played on her compassion regularly, had been doing so since their first meeting. His cold reading of her had told him exactly how to get what he wanted from her. All he'd had to do was get rid of Hannigan and slide right into the role of troublemaker she kept trying to help.

She sighed wearily. "You're a manipulative son of a bitch, Jane."

He smiled sadly. "Yes, I am. But never to your detriment, Lisbon. Not on purpose, anyway." He began massaging her fingers gently. It felt way too good for her to make him stop, even though she knew she should. "Touch increases trust and reduces fear. It also increases empathy, though you have no need of that."

"So you're going to need my trust in the next few minutes and need a little help getting it?" she guessed.

"So suspicious," he sighed. "Maybe this isn't about you. Maybe I'm trying to reduce my fears, or working on my woefully short supply of empathy. If I had a little more of that, perhaps I'd behave more in accordance with your ideas of acceptable conduct. A little hand holding would be a small price to pay for that, wouldn't it?"

"If it came with a guarantee, maybe." She frowned. "What are you up to, Jane? You shut yourself up in that stupid attic despite all my attempts to get you to actually do your job, and now you want to play the lost, lonely little boy? Well, boo hoo. If you want human contact, try hanging out where the humans are."

He chuckled. "Always an answer for everything."

"You should try one of them sometime. You might be surprised. I can give pretty good advice."

"I have no doubt, and if I ever find myself needing to act in a wise and prudent manner, you'll be the first one I call," he promised.

"Please do. I'll sell tickets."

Jane smirked and went back to looking out the window in silence. Lisbon moved her hand so she could lace her fingers through his, grimly amused when he initially resisted, no doubt thinking she was trying to pull free. _I am not the one pulling away_, she thought. Well, she could also be the one probing for answers.

"You know, you can't complain if I choose to keep walking when you push me away," she remarked, trying for the same dispassionate tone he'd used earlier.

He took a moment to answer. "I assure you, I have no desire to push you away."

"Okay then, you want me to stand still while you walk away," she said. "It feels exactly the same from where I sit. And I don't like it."

"I don't expect you to."

"And if you try to sell me a load of crap about trying to protect me, I'll break your finger." She adjusted her grip and squeezed his little finger hard.

"Ow," he complained. "There's no need for violence, Lisbon. I said no such thing. I would never imply that you need my protection. You're the one with the firepower, after all."

"The deniability thing doesn't wash either," she said. "I get held responsible for your actions whether I knew about them at the time or not. It's my job to know what you're up to. If you are planning something stupid and you don't want me to catch flak for it, then you'd better resign."

He shook his head. "How far would I get without resources? Sorry, Lisbon. I can't give up, even for you."

"You're the one who said it's better to regret something you've done than something you didn't do. So if I'm going to catch hell, I'd rather it be for something I was involved in, instead of something I find out about right before I get suspended or fired."

"It's not your job I'm worried about."

She glanced at him again. "It's way too late to keep me off Red John's radar."

He grimaced, but didn't deny it.

"So what's the real reason you're sneaking around behind my back?" she demanded.

He was quiet for so long that she gave up on getting an answer. Lisbon held onto her temper by playing a little game she'd invented years ago. She thought of it as "What Would Jane Do If." For instance, what would Jane do if she pulled over and punched him in the nose? No, that was no good. She'd punched him before, and she had no desire to hear him whine about it while looking at her with wounded eyes. In all three of the scenarios she came up with in answer to the game's premise, whining featured prominently.

She remembered once when she'd been particularly furious, she'd come up with "what would Jane do if I kicked him in the balls?" He'd read that one off her expression and actually taken a step back. Then he'd looked at her smirk and taken another. That was a good one.

Then, of course, there were the ones she never, ever thought where he could see her, like "what would Jane do if I stuck my tongue in his mouth to shut him up?" She'd never decided if the scenario where he used it as blackmail material was realistic, but it was probably more likely than the one where he kissed her back with enthusiasm. The winning answer there was probably that he would just go on making his point when he got his lips back, she thought in exasperation.

Jane's voice broke into her thoughts. "Think of it this way: if you're springing a trap, you want someone you trust to remain outside the trap so they can get you out of it."

She mulled that one over. "That doesn't explain why I can't know about the trap ahead of time."

"When I have that figured out, rest assured I'll let you know."

"That's a nice try, Jane, but the truth is, you don't want me anywhere near you when you find Red John because you're afraid I'll get in the way of your vengeance. And you're willing to take the chance he'll kill you if I don't get there in time."

"And you aren't. Yes. Happy now?"

"Not even remotely," she snapped. "Hasn't it occurred to you that if he kills you, he might get away before I find you?"

"Unlikely. I have more faith in you than that."

"Flattering, but irrelevant."

"It's not irrelevant to me," he said. "It's a great comfort to me that if I fail, you'll finish him for me."

"Arrest him, you mean," she corrected.

"And you think that's realistic? Think seriously about it for a minute, Lisbon. You walk in the room, gun drawn, and find him standing over my bloody, gutted body with a dripping knife. And you expect to just calmly pull out your handcuffs? I don't think that's what happens next."

Against her will, a picture of the scene formed in her head, followed immediately by a rush of rage so strong her vision blurred momentarily.

"Ow!" Jane yelped, managing to yank his hand out of her white-knuckled grip and flexing his fingers as if he feared they might be broken.

She didn't apologize; it was his own damn fault for starting it. She wondered when they had shifted to playing "What Would Lisbon Do If." Well, the likely scenarios didn't involve calm, that was for sure. She thought she'd probably blow Red John's head off. Or maybe shoot him right through his black heart. Or maybe shoot him in the gut so he'd die slowly while she made him very, very sorry he'd ever laid a hand on Patrick Jane.

"Goddammit, Jane," she snarled, annoyed that her voice shook. "If that image shows up in my nightmares I am going to walk straight up to you the next morning and punch you in the nose."

"Fair enough," he murmured. "Care to share? That certainly didn't look like an arrest you were thinking about."

"I'm a cop. I'm trained not to let anger sway my judgment, especially while I'm pointing a gun at someone," she said firmly. "Would I want to kill him? Yes. But I'd know it was wrong."

Jane grinned. "You are adorable when you try to lie to me. Ow!"

It was her turn to grin as he rubbed his shoulder in pain, and then pouted and whined, "Really Lisbon, I compliment you and that's how you respond?"

Yep. She'd won another round of her game.

mmm

Lisbon had already left for the night when the call came in, but she met them at the scene, for which Jane was grateful. It was no fun making wisecracks about the victim's profession with only Cho to pretend to ignore them. "So Lisbon, d'you suppose someone found out what was really in the sausage?" he called without looking up from where he was crouching beside the body.

The shoes that came into the edge of his vision were shinier and more pointy than usual, and he looked up in astonishment, following lovely bare legs up to a shorter-than-expected skirt of a dress, of all things. Ah. She'd been on a date, and not just any date. He grinned up at her and let out a wolf whistle, because he knew it would annoy her and make her feel less awkward.

"Shut up, Jane," she warned. "What do we have, Cho?"

"George Mercer, local butcher."

"And he's our problem because?" Lisbon demanded irritably. Jane deduced that she hadn't gotten to eat her dinner, though from her slightly looser than normal posture, he'd bet she'd managed a before dinner drink. Doughnuts were clearly called for before the night got much more advanced.

"This side of the street is state property," Cho replied.

Jane tuned out the cop talk. Really, it was perfectly obvious the man had been on the losing end of a domestic dispute. He was far more interested in how Lisbon's dating life was progressing. Still no consummation yet, he could tell, which seemed odd. Lisbon was the down-to-business type normally. She wasn't looking for anything long-term, so there was no reason to wait for the perfect moment or dither over whether he was "the one." If she didn't want to sleep with Mancini, why keep seeing him?

The answer that sprang to mind was one he wanted to reject, but it was the most likely. If sex wasn't her interest, then she was either taking goodwill-building to new heights of absurdity or she still thought he might be Red John's mole. In which case, there was a word for what she was contemplating doing, a word far too ugly for him to apply to Lisbon. He wondered if he might be able to steer her away from her course without her mistaking his motive for jealousy.

Then he wondered if he _was_ just a tad jealous. Well, yes, he concluded. Sitting across a dinner table from Lisbon in that dress, drinking a nice wine and trying to be unobtrusive about looking at her cleavage, sounded like a fine way to pass an evening indeed. There was no reason Mancini should be allowed such a treat, particularly if something about him was making Lisbon suspicious.

Obviously he needed to pay a little more attention to Lisbon, without letting up on his quest to interrogate Lorelei. He could start tonight. If he played his cards right (and he always did), he could finish out the evening sitting across a diner table from Lisbon, eating eggs and pretending not to notice all the things her dress revealed that he normally didn't see. Or maybe he would ogle her in a friendly, teasing way.

He would decide when he got there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing in here, except the dating ineptitude, alas.

**Author's Note: **I wasn't originally going to write the diner "date," but after a couple of reviewers mentioned they'd like to read it, I thought, why not? Then, of course, it turned out to be absolutely pivotal, which just goes to show you guys are smarter than I am. Thanks for your help!

**Chapter 5**

Two hours later, Jane found himself greatly enjoying the look on Lisbon's face when the waitress set a mug of hot chocolate with a small mountain of whipped cream down in front of her. That, along with the fact that she'd ordered pancakes, was a big flashing danger sign, and he resolved to remain quiet until she'd drunk at least half the mug. He was also very careful not to get caught staring at the way the dress tightened across her chest when she moved. It was obvious there was no bra under there, and he was very curious about Lisbon's other wardrobe choices tonight.

He was also somewhat startled to notice, now that they were in a well-lit place, that she was wearing the emerald earrings. Wearing a gift from him on a date with another man? And not just any date. It was now glaringly apparent that this evening was meant to be THE date. _Conflicted_ _much_, _Lisbon_? he thought.

A new and startling thought hit him: Maybe she really was. Was she waiting for him? Despite the fact that she had to know he had nothing to offer her but heartbreak? It was an absurd idea, but Lisbon had been absurd before when it came to him, by any objective measure. The things he'd convinced her to do sometimes surprised even him.

The problem was, she couldn't say the same. He wondered if she ever pondered the ever-growing pile of his debts to her. Maybe she secretly thought he owed her whatever he had to give. He didn't disagree with that, necessarily. After all, he owed the man he was today to her. She'd made him clean himself up, showed him how he could use his skills to wrangle a place with the CBI and help hunt Red John, and taken as much care of him as he permitted. In return he occasionally brought her coffee and bear claws and coaxed her into eating at diners late at night instead of trying to resume her date. Not that she'd shown any sign of wanting to do that. What was up with her and Mancini? He was beginning to think he needed to know.

The waitress set their food on the table, and Lisbon immediately poured maple syrup on her pancakes until they were swimming in it. Jane watched in fascination as she popped the first dripping forkful into her mouth. She was definitely feeling in need of comfort. Or...

Ah. Of course. He wanted to smack himself for blatant stupidity. She had gotten all dressed up with the expectation of having sex and hadn't even managed to get a nice dinner. No wonder the air around her was practically shimmering with frustration.

As a purely hypothetical exercise, he began thinking about the sequence of "accidental" touches that would push her over the edge. He bet he could get her to make a move on him in less than ten minutes after they finished eating. Not that he would, of course. There was no "reset" button after that, and he didn't dare add yet another stress fracture to their relationship. There had to be a limit to what she would endure, and he had almost no chance of fulfilling his goal if she washed her hands of him.

Of course, another part of his brain was quick to point out that maybe she deserved a good memory or two to call up when things ended badly for him, as they were almost certain to do. Maybe she'd find some comfort in not having to wonder what they would have been like together. He had to admit, now that he thought about it, he'd like to have the answer to that question to take with him into whatever fate awaited. He'd already given up his self-concept of Angela's faithful widower as part of his quest, a reason he was certain his wife would have hated. Surely it was less of an insult to her memory for him to be with someone he actually cared about, someone who was helping him? And it wasn't like sleeping with Lisbon was going to make that target on her back any bigger.

He was rationalizing, he knew. The plain truth was, he couldn't allow himself to seduce her. If he did, she'd always wonder if he had an ulterior motive, and he never wanted her to think he'd use her that way. If it was ever going to happen, it had to be her idea.

He turned his attention back to his plate and realized his eggs had gone cold. It seemed depressingly like a metaphor.

mmm

Lisbon felt better as she scraped the last of the syrup off her plate. The evening hadn't gone even remotely as planned, but it wasn't like anything in her life ever did. And this case didn't seem to have caught Jane's interest, so maybe they could solve it without the threat of lawsuits.

And those were some damn good pancakes. Jane always found the best diners. Plus, she could eat what she wanted and not obsess about her table manners, since this wasn't a date. With Jane, she didn't have to wonder how the evening was going to end, or what he was thinking. Though she'd love to know the latter, she could at least be sure it was not about getting her into bed.

"Something wrong with your eggs?" she asked. He'd hardly touched them, staring at his plate as if it were a message from Red John.

He blinked, glancing up at her for an instant with an odd light in his eyes. "The consistency is good, but they're not very tasty. I think the cook went too easy on the butter," he replied.

"That's too bad. The pancakes were great," she said. "Do you want to order something else?"

"You don't want to try picking up where you left off with Mancini?"

She scowled at him. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to take dating advice from someone who actually dates."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I'd like to point out that I wasn't offering advice, though. I was merely trying to make sure I wasn't interfering with any plans you may have."

"Right," she scoffed. "Because you normally care so much about my plans."

He pretended to give her comment some thought. "When they don't interfere with mine, I'm happy to let you carry out your own plans," he said.

She wrinkled her nose at his blatant patronization, then picked up a sugar packet and bounced it off his forehead.

Jane grinned. "If you wanted to have a food fight, you should have done it before licking your plate clean." He picked up a forkful of egg and contemplated potential trajectories.

"I am armed," she said darkly. If he dared get egg on this dress, he would pay. Dearly. For more than just the dry cleaning bill.

"Really? Where are you hiding it in that dress?" he asked, amused.

"If you make me draw, I'll definitely shoot," she retorted.

He chuckled, not taking her threat seriously. "No jury would convict you. In fact, any local judge would throw the case out and give you a medal."

"Probably," she agreed. "But the paperwork would be a bitch."

"Saved by paperwork. Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say. You need pie."

"Huh?"

"Chocolate pie. You need some. And while you're eating that, I think I'll get something else."

Chocolate pie did sound good, she thought, so she didn't protest as Jane waved the waitress over and ordered for them both. He pulled out his most charming smile while he did so, and in no time Lisbon had a large slice of chocolate pie and Jane was grinning in delight at a similarly huge slice of apple pie a la mode, with an extra scoop of ice cream.

"That's what you're having for dinner?" came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"It's nutritious," he replied. "Fruit and dairy." He put the first piece in his mouth and chewed, making approving noises.

Lisbon took a piece of her own pie and closed her eyes, savoring the decadence of it. This was going a long way toward redeeming the evening. She should institute a new rule that Jane had to take her to a diner for pie every time he generated extra paperwork. No, she realized, she'd end up weighing 300 pounds.

The cold plop on her chest made her open her eyes and grab for a napkin, trying to catch the blob of whipped cream that had fallen off the fork before it hit her neckline. She wasn't quite fast enough, so she pulled her dress out of the way and blotted the mess off her breast. Good thing this isn't a date, she thought, lifting her head to glare at Jane, sure he was laughing at her.

But he wasn't. He was staring at her chest, his eyes glazed over. Lisbon quickly readjusted her dress, feeling her cheeks heat up. She was so used to thinking of Jane as impervious to all things sexual that she was still trying to wrap her head around the revelation that he wasn't. She needed to be more careful, she thought. The man didn't look like he could get to his feet if his life depended on it.

Although she had to admit it was a heady sensation to be the one in control of the situation, even temporarily. What would Jane do if she slipped her foot out of her shoe and slid her toes up his calf? Spontaneously combust? Come up with a witty remark about how desperate she must be to hit on him? Call for the check, drag her out into the alley, and have a quickie up against the wall? That last idea made her toes curl, but it wasn't realistic. She'd never have sex in an alley, and Jane would know that, whichever head he happened to be thinking with.

The further implications of that thought made her mouth go suddenly dry. He knew her, probably better than anyone. He was an expert at manipulating people, even ones he'd just met, and he'd had years to study her. She had absolutely no doubt that all those little details filed away in his memory palace in the little room devoted to her would make him a spectacular lover. He'd know exactly how to touch her, what to say, what not to do or say. There'd be no fumbling, no hesitation, no asking her to articulate anything. God, she wanted to know what it would be like. Just once.

Because in the morning, all that focus and effort would evaporate, and she'd once again take second place to his obsession. He'd be his usual cocky, unreachable self, and she'd be left with memories that would probably make every single sexual experience in her future seem a pale imitation. Would it be worth it?

Was it even a realistic possibility? Just because she'd accidentally turned him on didn't mean he had any intention of following through. If he thought sex with her might somehow endanger his hunt for Red John, nothing she could do would change his mind. He knew her well enough to know that she would be an adult about it, though, surely?

He finally managed to raise his eyes from her chest, and their gazes met and locked.

Holy shit, she thought. Yes, it was definitely a possibility. She'd never been looked at with that much heat, even by men she'd undressed in front of. Good God, was he undressing her in his head? Or maybe he was just taking note of her pulse and respiration and pupil dilation and having the same internal debate that she was?

She wanted to take a sip of her water, but her hands were shaking, so she folded them in her lap and tried to figure out which ending to this evening she would regret the least.

mmm

She was sitting there trying to make a rational decision, he realized, when any other woman would have thrown caution to the winds by now. It was so Lisbon that he smiled. And he promised himself that if she decided in his favor, he wouldn't give her a chance to change her mind. He wouldn't even wait for the check; he'd just empty his wallet onto the table and hurry her out to the car. Of course he'd have to let her drive so she would be too distracted to overthink. He could help with the distractions, but he'd have to be careful not to get carried away. Nothing would kill the mood like explaining a single-car accident to SacPD.

Of course, reason might prevail. This was Lisbon, after all. She knew better than anybody how screwed up he was. In fact, as her friend, he'd have to advise her against this if she asked him.

But by God, if she wanted him, he'd use every single trick at his disposal to make it unforgettable. She deserved that. And he could read her like an open book—if he couldn't give her the best sex of her life, he'd eat one of his shoes.

How long was she going to torture them both? Indecisiveness wasn't a normal Lisbon trait. Dare he put his thumb on the scale, just a little?

"Ask me," he said, in a gravelly voice he barely recognized as his own.

She blinked, startled out of her thoughts. "Ask you what?" she said after a moment, sounding breathless.

"For anything." He held her gaze, willing her to believe him. "If it's in my power to give, it's yours."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she processed the disclaimer. Damn, he thought. But he didn't want to make her false promises, and if she gave in to her impulse to ask him to give up on the idea of killing Red John, he couldn't trust himself not to yield to lust and lie to her.

His heart sank as he watched the spark in her eyes turn from desire to anger. "I don't need your charity, Jane."

He wanted to slap himself for his miscalculation. "That is not what I meant. I want this as much as you do. But it has to be your call, Teresa. I don't want you wondering about my motives."

"Too late," she said, but she sounded more sad than angry.

Before he could think of what to say to that, her phone rang. She fished around in her fancy little purse (ah ha, that's where the gun is, he realized) and answered it with, "Hi, Gabe."

Jane caught the waitress' eye and motioned for her to bring the check. His evening was definitely over.

mmm

"So how's the case going?" Mancini asked.

"Looks like it might be pretty straightforward," she replied. "Sorry I had to go. I was really looking forward to dinner."

"You're in luck then. Since we'd already ordered, I had the waiter box up both meals. We can still have our dinner when you're free."

She was touched by his thoughtfulness. It was always nice to date someone who understood the demands of the job. "That sounds great. But I'm afraid I grabbed a little something with the team already. Tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. But if you want to stop by for a drink tonight, I don't have any early meetings or anything." He was trying, and failing, to sound casual. She found his transparency refreshing.

Glancing at Jane, she found him smiling and joking with the waitress. Well, at least she wasn't breaking his heart, she thought sourly. "Sure, I'd love to. I'll just wrap things up here. Be there in half an hour?"

"Looking forward to it," he said cheerfully.

"Me too," she replied. Well, it looked like her night was back on track, she thought as she hung up. It was too bad she wasn't feeling more enthusiastic about it, but once she wasn't sitting across from Jane anymore, she'd be able to put their mutual moment of almost-insanity behind her. It certainly looked like he had.

Jane looked at her, aware that she'd finished her conversation. "I've got this, if you're in a hurry," he offered.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow," was all she trusted herself to say as she slid out of the booth.

mmm

**Author's Note:** Don't hate me! You didn't think this would be easy, did you? Next chapter is almost done so it should be up tomorrow. Hopefully it will redeem this chapter's ending!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist.

**Author's Note: **Wow, thanks for all the great reviews of the last chapter! Guess I'm not the only one who'll never be able to look at diner pancakes the same way. :) Reminder: this is a Volker- and Kirkland-free zone. And to clarify, any case mentions in here aren't related to the show and won't turn into an actual case. I'm way too lazy to make one up for this fic. I figure they must solve a few boring ones we don't see, right? Just assume these are those. That said, I'm afraid I'm getting close to committing an actual plot here. Bear with me.

**Chapter 6**

Jane made sure he was first one into the office the next day, so he could observe Lisbon before she started working. He didn't know what frame of mind she'd be in, but he was pretty sure that even if she'd had the time of her life with Mancini, her good mood wouldn't extend to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd miscalculated so badly. Obviously he should not be allowed to do anything even remotely resembling dating. Had he always been this bad at it? He didn't think so, but it had been a really long time. And Angela had been a far more patient woman than Lisbon.

Which was all moot, because there was no way he should be spending his time thinking about this. Lisbon was better off with a nice normal guy like Mancini, assuming that's what he was. Hadn't he decided long ago to leave enough distance between them so Lisbon would survive whatever ending was in store for him? His weakness was that he kept sidling back up to her every time he made himself walk away. And last night his weakness had collided with her curiosity, almost resulting in disaster. He should be grateful to Mancini for interrupting before he could think of some plan to reverse his misstep. But he wasn't, probably because he was a selfish bastard.

He heard the elevator ding and sat up on his couch, focused on the hallway. But it was only Grace, who exchanged a cheerful good morning with him and got right to work. Cho was only a few minutes behind her, and Rigsby hurried in at five past nine. Still no Lisbon. Jane was beginning to spin ridiculous theories about what was keeping her, but he acknowledged that she was probably having trouble tearing herself away from Mancini rather than having been kidnapped by terrorists or tripping over her high heels, hitting her head on the pavement, and contracting amnesia. Though if she could just forget the last 24 hours, that might be a good thing.

Lisbon finally came in at nine-thirty, an hour and a half past her usual time. She went straight to her office rather than stopping in to say good morning to the team; after a few minutes, Cho went in to talk to her about the case. He returned a few minutes later and relayed instructions to Rigsby and Van Pelt.

Jane decided discretion really was the better part of valor in this case and stretched out on his couch to catch a nap. He hadn't slept well last night, no surprise. And he might as well be comfortable while he waited for Lisbon to approach him on her own terms.

He was woken about an hour later by a stir in the bullpen and opened his eyes just in time to see the vase of red roses being carried into Lisbon's office. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. At least he wasn't the only one making big mistakes with Lisbon these days. Mancini should have known that Lisbon wouldn't want a public announcement they were dating, and from Grace's whispered conversation with Sally from Accounting, it was obvious there'd been a card whose contents were now common knowledge. He might actually feel a little sorry for Mancini, except that now Lisbon was bound to be upset. She'd have more than enough ire to go around, too. Maybe he should take one for the team and let her vent some of it at him. He'd probably just have to look at her to get snapped at.

Well, he was awake now anyway. He might as well do something useful.

"Don't do it, man," Cho murmured as Jane passed his desk.

"Seriously," Rigsby agreed, swiveling his chair and giving him a concerned look. "Or at least wear some body armor."

"O ye of little faith," Jane said with false cheer. "What's the fun of getting flowers if nobody oohs and aahs over them?"

As he walked away, he heard Rigsby say, "Five bucks says she breaks the vase over his head."

"You're on," Cho said. "He runs faster than that."

Jane grinned briefly as he sauntered into Lisbon's office. "My condolences," he said with mock solemnity. "Do you need help disposing of the body? I have some theories I wouldn't mind testing."

"I may take you up on that," she muttered, not looking up from her computer screen. "Do you need something, Jane?"

Interesting. She didn't seem furious at all, at least not with him. He couldn't quite decipher her expression. Was it regret? It looked more like anxiety, but what could be making her anxious? Unless she'd found some kind of evidence to support the theory—all right, it was more like a supposition at this point—that Mancini was involved with Red John. He was suddenly concerned. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or would you rather I spend the morning guessing?"

"Do whatever you want, Jane, just don't do it in here. I'm busy."

Now he was definitely worried. Lisbon would never give him carte blanche like that if she were thinking clearly. Had she had too much to drink last night? He didn't think he'd ever seen her hung over. Maybe it looked like anxiety?

"Coffee?" he offered. If it was a hangover, the caffeine would help her headache. She definitely had one.

She finally looked up and met his gaze, and his heart ached a little for her. She looked miserable. "Yes," she said. "I'll come with you. We can get some for everybody."

They went into the bullpen and took orders. Grace said, "Do you want help, boss?"

"No need. I've got my pack mule," Lisbon said.

"Mule, Lisbon?" Jane exclaimed, offended.

"Yes. As in, stubborn as," she said, leading the way out of the bullpen.

"That makes us a pair of mules, then," Jane remarked. "Or is that a team? Hey, did you know that the collective noun for zombies is a murder?"

"I thought that was crows," Lisbon said.

"Correct. Someone made straight As in high school English," he teased. "And a lot of other subjects too, I'll bet. What was your weak subject?"

She was relaxing, he congratulated himself as they waited for the elevator. Good. He couldn't have her avoiding him because she was worried he might try to bring up last night.

"What? You don't know?" she scoffed.

"I know it wasn't phys ed or English. And you're pretty good at math. Chemistry? No, you liked the sciences, all that intellectual rigor. A foreign language?"

They got into the elevator, which was empty for its downward trip this time of day. Lisbon leaned against the back wall and folded her arms, which spoke of her discomfort, but she wasn't any further from him than usual, so he knew he wasn't the source of it.

"Typing," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I hated it. We were one of the last classes to use actual typewriters, and I hated doing footnotes and learning to type business letters like I was going to be a secretary or something. But it was either that or Home Ec, and I would have ended up taking hostages if they'd made me take that."

He grinned, picturing young Lisbon turning up her adorable little nose at sewing and cooking. Both of which she'd almost certainly had to master years earlier, he realized, making his grin fade.

"So, it's your turn," she said as they got out on the ground floor and headed outside. "Worst subject."

"I told you I didn't go to high school," he reminded her.

"But you got a pretty good education somewhere along the way," she replied. "So what did you have the most trouble with? Differential calculus? Astrophysics? Mandarin?"

"I don't speak Mandarin," he chuckled. "But I'll confess to having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of limits in calculus."

She rolled her eyes at him as they walked away from the building.

"So," he said, as calmly as he could, "now that we won't be overheard, what did you want to tell me?"

"How freaked out should I be that Gabe is a William Blake fan?" she asked.

"That depends. He doesn't seem like the poetry type, but I suppose he could be. Any other books of poetry?"

"Not that I saw. But I didn't search the place thoroughly. I wasn't sure how long he'd sleep." She wasn't looking at him, but she seemed to realize what he was thinking. "I didn't sleep with him just to get into his apartment," she added testily.

No, he thought, you slept with him because I got you all heated up and then blew it. "I wasn't thinking that," he assured her. "But if you want to indulge in girl talk, I'm going to need something stronger than tea."

"It's just," she said slowly, "if he were involved with Red John and he knew I was coming over, wouldn't he have hidden it?"

"Unless he's taunting you. One book of poetry didn't get your antennae quivering," Jane said. "What else? Something he said, or something he did?" He'd better not have hurt her, Jane thought with a rush of anger before realizing how ridiculous he was being. If Mancini had gotten physically out of line, Lisbon would have broken his nose.

"It's hard to say exactly," she said. They reached the coffee cart and got in line, so the confidential part of their conversation was put on hold. When they got to the front of the line, Lisbon rattled off the orders like a barista. Jane found himself handed two steaming cups, while Lisbon took two more. Then they headed back.

"It might just be that he's so sure of himself, but sometimes, I get the feeling he's laughing at me," Lisbon said. "And...and I had the feeling he wasn't all that into it, last night. I mean, it was fine, but I felt like I was his homework or something." She paused. "Of course, that might have been my fault. He said I was distracted, and he might have been right."

Jane knew she'd been distracted, and that he was to blame. He should probably be ashamed of how pleased he was about that, but he wasn't. "Do you have any friends you could talk into a double date? Or should I crash the poker game?"

Lisbon made a strange choking sound. "No!"

"To which question?"

"Both! If you crash the poker game, I'll shoot you, and I mean it. And I wouldn't dare set you up with anyone. Except maybe someone I was annoyed with."

"Sally from Accounting was being awfully catty about your flowers," Jane remarked. "I could ask her out."

Lisbon burst into laughter. "Jane, only you would ask someone out as a punishment!"

"If it were anyone else, I could just bump into you at dinner and make you feel obligated to ask me to join you. But Mancini doesn't like me, so that won't work." He frowned in thought.

"It's so irrational of him. Most people enjoy being accused of being a serial killer's disciple in front of a judge," she remarked. "We're having dinner at his place tonight. Just show up if you want to get a read on him. Pretend to have a crisis or something. I won't let him throw you out until you get really obnoxious."

Jane chuckled. "Sounds like a fun evening. Eat fast—you won't want to miss the show."

mmm

Lisbon tried not to be obvious about hurrying through her dinner, which was delicious despite having been microwaved. Fortunately Mancini was busy telling her about how he had saved the day in a kidnapping case that afternoon. His self-absorption made her feel less guilty about whatever Jane was going to do, but she was still dreading it.

When the knock on the door came and Mancini got up to answer it, she reached for her glass of wine and drained it. She could handle this, she assured herself. Working with Jane had proved that she could not in fact die from embarrassment.

"Where's Lisbon?" The urgency in Jane's shout made her spring out of her chair and run for the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mancini demanded.

"Jane?" Lisbon said, not having to do much acting to sound surprised when she saw the glare he was giving Mancini.

"Teresa!" Jane's expression turned to relief, and he pushed past Mancini to wrap her in a suffocating hug.

Now she was well and truly shocked, not to mention alarmed. She'd been expecting charming, glib Jane, not manic Red John Jane. Oh, no, she thought. This was going to be even worse than she'd feared.

And why wasn't he letting her go? It was beginning to feel weird. Maybe because this was the first time they'd touched since she'd thought about having sex with him. And also because the man she'd actually had sex with instead was watching in annoyance.

Two days ago she'd thought her life was relatively under control, she reflected ruefully. She tried to loosen Jane's grip so she could bring her hands up to push him away, but he beat her to it, grabbing her shoulders and growling, "Why didn't you answer your damn phone?"

"I put it on silent. I'm off the clock. Jane, what's happened? If it's an emergency, why didn't you call Cho?" She was relieved to be able to say a line she'd actually rehearsed in her head.

He finally let her go, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "I found this under my windshield wiper."

She started to take it, then looked at Mancini. "Gloves?"

He dug in his pockets, then shook his head. Jane rolled his eyes and handed her his handkerchief. "There won't be any fingerprints but mine," he said impatiently.

It was Lisbon's turn to roll her eyes. "You don't know that," she chided. Though of course he did if he'd written this himself. Typed, rather, she corrected herself as she looked at it. She didn't have to fake her sickened expression as she read:

_Dear Mr. Jane,_

_I am disappointed by the mess you are making of this new life I've given you. Your obsession with me is a clear sign that you have still not learned the lesson I attempted to teach you about arrogance. You have taken someone I value, which is not only arrogant, but also disrespectful. I see I must make my point again. I hope you enjoyed your little game last night with the charming Agent Lisbon, since it was your last._

The smiley face at the end was almost superfluous. The damn thing was all too believable. She handed the note to Mancini when he reached for it and looked at Jane, hoping he'd give her a sign if this was real. But he was watching Mancini now, of course.

"Jane, you need to calm down," she said. "I'm fine. This isn't the first time Red John has threatened me."

"He's coming for you, Lisbon." There was just the right note of desperation in his voice. "Because we took Lorelei." As if struck by a sudden idea, he turned to Mancini. "You could help. The FBI has her. If we set her free, he will leave Lisbon alone."

"What makes you think that?" Mancini frowned.

"Because he'll know we did it out of respect," Jane replied. He looked at Lisbon again, laying a hand on her shoulder. "And because he'll see it as a surrender. He's won. I won't give up Lisbon, even for him."

"What makes you think this is your call?" Lisbon demanded. "You can't just set Lorelei free. She was an accomplice in the death of our boss!"

"There's no way," Mancini said. "The FBI doesn't work like that." He looked at Lisbon, frowning a little at Jane's hand resting possessively on her shoulder. "You'll have to go into protective custody. I can set something up."

"No," Jane said. "Red John has a friend in the FBI. He told me so himself."

Mancini sneered at him. "The CBI doesn't have a great track record in that department either."

"Stop it, both of you," Lisbon snapped. "I'm not going to run scared because of some note that can't even be authenticated." She shrugged off Jane's hand and turned to Mancini. "Gabe, I'm really sorry to run out on you two nights in a row, but I need to look into this."

"Of course you do," he said. "Just call me later, okay, and let me know if I can help."

"I will," she promised, stepping close and giving him a quick kiss. "And I'll see you at the game Friday if not before."

"Lisbon," Jane protested.

"Enough, Jane," she said firmly. "Let's go."

When they reached the curb outside Mancini's apartment, Lisbon muttered, "Nice multitasking."

"I thought so," Jane said, very pleased with himself. "More than you realize, even."

"Really? I counted three games you were playing in there: seeing how he reacted to the mention of Red John, the threat to me, and you being all touchy-feely. So what are your conclusions, O mastermind?" She couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"You needn't be grumpy because I'm concerned about whether he's good enough for you, Lisbon," he said airily.

"Concerned or jealous?" she shot back, then immediately wished she hadn't.

She'd surprised him as well as herself, she realized when he hesitated. But she was even more surprised when he answered honestly, "Both, of course. I wasn't the one who chose how last night ended, remember."

"You said it had to be my call," she reminded him, confused.

"Yes. And I still mean that." He put his hands in his pockets and looked down for a second, then met her eyes. "I meant everything I said to you last night."

_Ask me._ _For anything._

She blinked at him, swallowing hard. She couldn't get into that now, she decided. Not when this might be an actual problem. "You wrote that note, didn't you?"

He gave her a look that said he was disappointed in her lack of courage. "Of course. It sounded authentic, though, didn't it."

"And if Gabe really is a mole, how do you think Red John will feel about that?"

"Like teaching me a lesson. Which is why we are going to meet Cho at the office and then you, my dear, are going to agree to whatever protective measures he thinks appropriate."

"God, I hate you sometimes," she said through clenched teeth.

He smiled at her and then laid a hand on her back, giving her a gentle push toward her car. "To answer your earlier question, I found his reactions highly suspicious. If my girlfriend was being threatened by a serial killer, I wouldn't just tell her to call me later and let her leave with someone I thought was unreliable at best and crazy at worst."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Lisbon grumbled. "What I am is an idiot for letting you get me into this mess."

"It's only a mess if he's the mole. Besides, I've always gotten you back out of my messes." He looked at her soberly.

She sighed, knowing she couldn't really argue with that. "I'll see you at the office."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"What about your car?" she asked, surprised.

"I'll pick it up later," he replied as he slid into the passenger seat. "It would hardly be realistic for me to let you out of my sight when Red John is after you."

She scowled as she got into the driver's seat. "Don't think for a minute that I'm going to stay cooped up with you in some safe house," she told him.

Jane grinned. "Don't worry, Lisbon. I promise not to seduce you, no matter where we end up."

"That assumes you could," she scoffed.

"And you won't be able to dare me into it, either," he chuckled. "I know perfectly well that you know I could. I've done it a hundred times in my head."

"You have?" She hated that it came out as a sort of breathless squeak.

Jane had the self-preservation to look out the window while he smirked. "Mostly as an intellectual exercise, with no thought of any real-world application, in the beginning. As the years have passed, that's become less satisfying, however. I admit there have been times, especially recently, when the temptation has been almost irresistible. But I won't take the risk of alienating you by pushing you into something you'll regret. It has to be your choice." He paused, then added, "I will simply remind you that it's better to regret something you did than something you didn't do."

"Says you."

"Yes. And I have enough regrets, of both kinds, to know."

She glanced at him as she started the car, wondering what memories were playing in his head. Whatever they were, she decided not to disturb them. She had some thinking of her own to do.

**Author's Note:** This ended up going to kind of a weird place. I'm not sure Jane would really take this kind of risk, although in this season, who knows? But this is where the muse led me, so here we are. Hopefully not for long!


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist.

**Author's Note: **My muse is apparently in a leisurely mood, so this rambled on a bit. Things should speed up from here though!

**Chapter 7**

Cho listened impassively, arms crossed, as Lisbon outlined the situation, then asked, "Do you want me to hold him down while you beat him up, or would you rather just watch while I do it?"

"Neither, right now," Lisbon sighed, leaning back against her desk and glancing at Jane, who had settled on the couch. "But thank you. I'll take a rain check."

"I think you're overlooking the opportunity here," Jane interjected, ignoring both their glares.

Lisbon rubbed at the spot on her forehead where she could feel the headache forming. "No, Jane, we're not. We're simply having a normal reaction to you putting a colleague in danger without consulting any of us. You've created a problem we now have to solve."

Cho nodded. "Given Red John's connections, we won't want to go through official channels. So a safe house is out."

Lisbon shook her head. "I'm not going to run and hide. This might all come to nothing. The only person who knows about the note is Mancini. If he's not the mole, nothing will happen."

"If he keeps his mouth shut," Cho said. "Think that's likely? The FBI are really interested in Red John. If he's ambitious, he'll tell his boss at least. Then we'll have no way to know who the mole is."

"We need to tap Mancini's phone," Jane said.

"Right," Lisbon said sarcastically. "You'll need to sell it to the judge, because I know I can't."

"What do we need a warrant for?" Jane asked. "This isn't going to end up in court. We just need to know if he's the mole."

"We can't just tap an FBI agent's phone," Lisbon said, with exaggerated patience.

"Ask him for help," Cho suggested. "Three of us won't be enough for around-the-clock coverage anyway."

"Four," Jane said. "Just give me a gun. If Red John comes after Lisbon, I'll deal with him."

"That's why we're not giving you a gun," Cho said. "You shoot first and ask questions later. You'll land us all in trouble. Or dead. My point was, if we rope Mancini in, we can keep an eye on him. Maybe limit the number of people he talks to."

Lisbon shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to encourage more encounters between Jane and Mancini. "I don't think he'll do anything off the books."

Cho looked pointedly at the flowers. "Really?"

"Really," Lisbon said in her most dire we-are-done-discussing-this voice.

Without much change of expression, Cho managed to convey his disapproval of anyone who could send a woman flowers and yet not be willing to trash his career to protect her. Lisbon began to realize that perhaps the men she spent the most time with were skewing her expectations of dates.

"Lisbon, you can't just carry on like nothing's wrong," Jane said.

"Why not? That's exactly what I'd do if this note was real," she retorted. "I'm a cop. I don't hide from bad guys."

Her cell phone rang, and she answered it, glad for the distraction. "Hi, Gabe."

"Teresa, I was thinking. This is serious. You need to go somewhere safe," he said.

"I'll be fine, Gabe," she replied, trying to keep her exasperation out of her voice. "Red John is just messing with Jane. He does that."

"It's not good when a serial killer targets you, Teresa. It doesn't really matter why he's doing it," Mancini said. "Now I know you probably don't want to trust the FBI, but I have another solution. I have this buddy who has a cabin up in the mountains. He's not using it this time of year. I can ask him for the keys, and I could take you up there. It's isolated, so there'd be no one around to give you away."

Well, she thought, that was either a really good or really bad idea. Her eyes went automatically to Jane, who had leaned in close to hear both sides of the conversation. He met her gaze and nodded.

"I appreciate that," she said, and she meant it. "But I'm afraid I'd have to ask that you not tell anyone, even your coworkers. Are you willing to do that?"

"Yes. It won't be for long, right? I mean, Red John will either make his move, or he won't."

"He can be hard to predict. But my people are willing to take on the protective detail," she replied. "Assuming your friend won't need the cabin anytime soon."

"No, he uses it in the summer mostly. I'll give him a call then and pick you up in the morning."

"Thanks. I really appreciate the help," she said.

"No problem. After all, I'm hoping one day we'll get to have an uninterrupted date," he replied. "You'll be all right tonight?"

"I'm covered, thanks. See you tomorrow." Lisbon put her phone back in her pocket. "Well, I guess I underestimated him."

"Or it's a trap," Cho pointed out.

"If it's a trap," Jane said, "we'll just lay our own trap."

Cho frowned at him. "This stupid game you're playing could get her killed. Then what are you going to do?"

"That, my friend, will be your problem, because I will certainly be dead too," Jane said with a shrug.

"That's a real comfort," Cho shot back. "Boss, you're not really going to turn him loose on a Red John case, are you? You're taking him with you?"

Lisbon sighed. Much as she didn't want to mix Jane and Mancini, much less go off to a secluded spot with the two of them, she knew that leaving Jane to his own devices would probably end up being worse. Even though Jane didn't think Red John would come after him, it was still a distinct possibility in her own mind. And much as she trusted Cho, they both knew Jane wouldn't listen to him if Red John was involved. Hell, he wouldn't even listen to her most of the time. She looked at him, wondering if it was even possible to make him stay behind. He liked to be there when his traps were sprung.

"Of course she is," Jane said. "I'll just need to pack some books so I'll have something to do while the lovebirds are cooing at each other."

Lisbon hoped she didn't look as horrified as she felt. If Gabe thought she was distracted last night, he'd be really frustrated by how distracting Jane sitting in the next room could be.

Cho looked from Jane to Lisbon and back again. "Nice knowing you," he said to Jane.

mmm

The next morning, Lisbon got into Mancini's car with the worst case ever of morning-after regret. She should have known better than to set herself up like that. She'd gotten complacent, thinking she knew what Jane would do. And now she had this mess on her hands. Of course Jane had taken the opportunity to orchestrate a situation where Mancini would have to reveal himself if he were the mole. That his actions put her in an untenable situation might even be a plus if he wanted to get back at her for leaving the diner that night. But really, he had only himself to blame. That nonsense about her needing to trust his motives was just a smokescreen. It wasn't like she could trust his motives if she made the first move, after all. He'd slept with Lorelei to get to Red John; it would make just as much sense in his twisted mind to sleep with her to keep her on his side.

And what was all that "ask me" stuff about anyway? For what? For sex? How would that even happen? "Pass the maple syrup, and by the way, I'd like to drizzle some of it on your naked body so I can lick it off"? She wondered if it would have worked if she could have said it with a straight face. Maybe. Or maybe he would have laughed his head off. If he'd been serious, though…. God. She should NOT be thinking about this while sitting beside the man she was dating. Sort of. Drinks and two interrupted dinners and one night of sex constituted dating, right?

"Don't worry," Mancini said, mistaking the reason for her silence.

She summoned a smile for him. This was a lot to take for someone who was in no way committed to her, and he was handling it pretty well, all things considered. Of course, she hadn't dropped the bombshell on him yet.

"I'm not," she assured him. "If Red John was serious about killing me, he wouldn't warn us first. He'd follow his pattern, and nobody would know anything was wrong until I didn't show up for work." She pushed the image of a smiley face on her wall out of her head. It was too painful to imagine the looks on her team's faces when they found her. And Jane...he would lose his mind. She could only hope the others would keep their heads enough to help him through that first terrible shock.

Damn it, she was thinking about Jane again. How long had that been? A minute?

"Your man Cho seemed to take it pretty seriously," Mancini remarked.

"Cho doesn't take chances when it comes to Red John. None of us do. Which is why I've agreed to this."

"Well, we can hope for the best, right? Maybe this will just turn out to be a vacation. You can catch up on your sleep, relax a little. Maybe even enjoy yourself."

Oh, she needed to burst his bubble before he got too invested in this idea. "I'm really never off the clock. Keeping Jane in line is a round-the-clock job. Which reminds me." She hesitated, not sure how to break it to him.

Mancini was on to her, though. "Don't tell me," he groaned. "Is he the other guy in Cho's car? Why? He's not a cop, so what help can he be?"

"He did once shoot a man to save my life," she said, giving in to her instinctive urge to defend him. "But that's not why he's coming. He can get a little out of control when Red John is involved. I need to keep an eye on him."

"You can't get a babysitter?" Mancini sounded disgruntled, but at least he wasn't angry.

"There's not enough money in our budget for the hazard pay," she joked. "I can't promise you he won't be a total pain in the ass, because that's kind of his default mode. But nothing matters to him as much as catching Red John. He won't do anything to jeopardize that."

"I'm more worried he'll do something to endanger you," Mancini said.

Lisbon shook her head. "He knows nobody else will work with him if he gets me killed."

"Selfish bastard," Mancini grumbled.

Lisbon shrugged. "Self-interest is more reliable than emotion. I don't worry about him changing his mind, anyway."

"Does that mean you think I'll change my mind?" he asked sharply.

"No," she said, surprised. She added warmth to her tone as she continued, "I can't thank you enough for this, Gabe. I know it's an imposition, and adding Jane only makes it more of one. I only hope I can repay the favor someday."

He grinned at her. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

mmm

The cabin was bigger than Lisbon expected, more a vacation house than the little rustic structure she'd envisioned. Good. At least they wouldn't all be stuck in the same room. She hoped Jane hadn't been joking about catching up on his reading. Maybe this wouldn't be the nightmare she feared. Maybe he'd hole up in his room the way he did in his attic.

Oh, who was she kidding? Jane would gleefully torture Mancini for a week if she let him. He knew all too well how to push his buttons. Mancini wasn't a complicated or subtle guy, which is partly why she'd been drawn to him in the first place. She already had a tortured, complex man in her life; she certainly didn't need another.

Mancini and Cho went out to scout the perimeter, giving Lisbon her chance to plead her case. "Jane, we are guests here. And we may need Mancini's help if Red John does show up. We can't afford to have him distracted because you have to see how many times you can make him lose his temper in one day."

He grinned. "Or chase me through the house?"

"It's not that big a place. He'd catch you, and you shouldn't assume I'd save you."

"I don't have to assume something so blatantly obvious," he pointed out.

"Don't be so sure. You got me into this. Make it unpleasant enough, and I might help him figure out where to bury your body." She narrowed her eyes at him.

He smiled and shook his head. "All right, Lisbon. In the interest of your emotional well being, I will try to contain any mischievous impulses I may have. I have no desire to make Mancini look like the better man, after all."

"That doesn't take any effort," she retorted, but he knew it for a lie immediately, his smile widening. Damn it, she thought, Mancini _should_ look like the better man. So how come he didn't? Was she really sensing something about him, or was she just sabotaging what could be a good thing because her subconscious was obsessed with Jane?

"Don't worry," Jane said. "He'll be gone tomorrow morning."

"How do you know?" They hadn't even spoken to each other today, she knew.

"Because after you tell him you're not in the mood tonight, he won't see any reason to hang around," Jane said, as if it should be obvious.

"And who says I'm going to tell him any such thing?" she demanded, folding her arms.

Jane shook his head. "Although you might reasonably decide I deserve to be kept awake by a night of passion on the other side of my bedroom wall, you would never be able to face Cho the next morning if you thought he'd heard anything."

She felt herself blushing as she tried to picture what THAT morning after would be like. No, Jane was right. Again.

Damn it.

mmm

Jane managed to behave until that evening, deriving amusement from the way Lisbon kept glancing at him, expecting him to insult Mancini or pull some kind of trick on him. He made quite a bit of progress on his reading, keeping one ear on their dreadfully dull conversations about sports and their jobs, and caught a nap during the afternoon. Cho was napping too, preparing to take the night shift, and Jane figured he could keep him company. Cho wasn't much of a conversationalist, but what he did say was always worth listening to.

At last Mancini left to pick up some groceries, even gracefully accepting Jane's additions to his list once he offered to cook dinner. After he was gone, Jane let out a put-upon sigh and said mournfully, "This is why I can never behave for long. It makes you too nervous. And I do so hate making you uncomfortable, Lisbon."

She rolled her eyes. "You are so full of shit, Jane. You're enjoying every minute of it, and laughing up your sleeve at what you have planned for later. I'm wise to your tricks."

"The anticipation is half the fun. And you never know; I might be misdirecting and planning nothing more harmful than a quiet night." He actually hadn't made up his mind yet.

"That would be refreshing," she said in an encouraging tone.

"No, it wouldn't. You would immediately take it as one of the signs of the Apocalypse, or decide I'd had a mini-stroke, or something. Admit it—you enjoy the drama I add to your life." He grinned his best "you know you love me" grin.

"I enjoy the catching criminals part, but the drama, not so much. Especially the paperwork-generating kind."

"Then what are you worried about? Nothing that happens here is going to generate paperwork," he pointed out.

"Ha. I'll believe that when I see it," she muttered. "That reminds me, I brought some with me that I'd like to get done before dinner. Which had better be edible, Jane."

"It will be far better than that, Lisbon." He didn't try to detain her as she went into her room, leaving the door open a crack, presumably so she could hear him yell for help in the unlikely event Red John decided to confront them in broad daylight.

There were some interesting thoughts passing behind her eyes, and he knew it was best to let her work through them. Besides, he wanted Mancini to see them in harmony with each other, to the extent possible. The man needed to be disillusioned; he was obviously foolish enough to believe the absurd things Lisbon had told him. It was certainly true that he could be a complete pain in the ass, he acknowledged, but anyone who thought Lisbon kept him around strictly for professional reasons had to be either an idiot or ridiculously self-absorbed. He was betting Mancini was the latter, and he was looking forward to watching that smug self-absorption turn to mortified realization.

At least the man would get a delicious dinner out of it. Feeding Lisbon was one of the small pleasures Jane allowed himself, and he'd never had the chance to cook for her before. And he had a long way to go to remedy the calorie deficit she'd apparently suffered while he was in Vegas. The chocolate pie in the diner had been meant as more than a mood-altering substance. He just hadn't expected that her enjoyment of it would end up making him ravenous. The memory of her pulling her dress aside to reveal the tender flesh beneath had taken up permanent residence in his memory palace without even asking his permission. And it had an unnerving tendency to barge into his awareness at odd moments, encouraging him to imagine it had been his fingers sliding between the fabric and her skin, smearing the whipped cream as they slid further beneath the silky material….

Down, boy, he thought wryly. That wasn't what this little interlude in the woods was about. He needed to accomplish his original obsession before succumbing to another, even if the new one was so much more pleasant.

He puttered around, exploring the kitchen, until Mancini returned, then helped bring the groceries in, examining the bags anxiously for signs of sabotage. If he'd been sent to buy supplies for a meal another man would be cooking for his girlfriend, he'd be tempted to leave out a few key ingredients to lessen any chance she'd be impressed. But apparently Mancini's mind didn't work that way. He either really was a straight arrow or was very good at pretending to be.

But then, O'Loughlin hadn't set off any alarm bells, either. Red John obviously sent only his most devious disciples into his vicinity on a regular basis. His real doubt about Mancini being a mole was based on the fact that Red John must know that Lisbon would learn from Grace's experience and never take a date at face value again. Which should make him feel guilty, he realized, except that he found he no longer enjoyed being a spectator of Lisbon's love life.

He realized that Mancini had knocked on Lisbon's door and was being allowed entry. He'd better get dinner on, because he was sure Mancini wasn't offering to help with the paperwork or wanting to talk more about sports.

mmm

Jane was just putting the finishing touches on the first course—caprese salads with a basil and olive oil vinaigrette—when Cho wandered out of his room. "Smells good," he noted, heading straight for the coffeemaker, which Lisbon had thoughtfully set up earlier.

"And it will taste even better," Jane assured him, watching in amusement as the agent started the coffeemaker and then glared at it as if trying to intimidate it into working faster. He glanced at Lisbon's door, hoping for an end to its use as a barrier against him.

Sure enough, a minute later it opened and Lisbon emerged, saying, "I smell coffee."

Jane tried to tamp down his chuckle as Cho instinctively placed himself between her and the coffeepot, a territorial move he'd never make in the office. Lisbon noticed it too and smirked briefly before turning her gaze to the salads. "Those look delicious," she said. "Why didn't you call us?"

"I thought it wise to allow Cho to get sufficiently caffeinated before attempting any sudden moves or loud noises," Jane replied, adding in a mock whisper, "I'm a little afraid of him right now."

Cho said, "You should be a little afraid of me all the time."

"Oh, I am," Jane grinned. "No need to up your game on my account."

It was Cho's turn to smirk. "Good to know. What's for breakfast?"

"You're not overly attached to timebound meal conventions, are you?" Jane asked. "Because you don't want to miss this. But if you insist, I can whip you up an omelette."

"If it's edible, I'm good," Cho replied.

Mancini emerged, running a hand through his hair. Jane took in his appearance with one sweeping glance, then began carrying the salads to the table. Lisbon immediately grabbed the other two and followed suit, enabling him to give her a close look. Yes, indeed, she had indulged Mancini a bit in there. Second base, perhaps, to use a tired metaphor. Which was almost cruel, since she had no intention of allowing him to get any further in this situation. Jane had made sure of that earlier with his reminder that Cho was present, although he was pretty sure she wouldn't have wanted to risk his hearing anything either. Regardless of what she thought he might feel about it, she wouldn't want to give him fodder for future teasing.

The caprese salads, chicken in wine sauce with Portobello mushrooms and wild rice, and strawberries in a red wine sauce with whipped cream were all very well received, Jane was pleased to see. He was pretty far out of practice, after all. Lisbon looked downright sated—ha, Mancini, no need for your services there—and Cho wasn't being bashful about having seconds. He was probably thankful Rigsby wasn't there, Jane thought.

Mancini looked impressed despite himself, finally deigning to address Jane for the first time since they'd sat down. "If you get tired of the CBI," he remarked, "you could always take up cooking."

"I think I'd become bored with terrorizing a kitchen staff pretty quickly," Jane replied. "But thank you for the implied compliment."

"And thank you," Mancini said, keeping his voice pleasant, "for providing a wonderful meal that I have finally gotten to share with Teresa uninterrupted."

Lisbon smiled back at Mancini, though Jane knew she hadn't missed the dig. "Yes, it was lovely," she said, shifting her gaze slightly to indicate she was speaking to them both. "And after a huge meal like that, I feel like I'll sleep well tonight."

All three men froze for a moment, sorting through the possibilities of meaning in that statement. Cho, who had the least at stake, recovered first. "Yeah, I'm gonna need more coffee."

"I'll get it," Jane offered, glad to have an excuse to get up. "I want some tea myself. Anyone else?"

"Coffee, please," Lisbon said. She got up and began clearing the table, gathering a stack of dishes to carry to the kitchen.

"Sit down and stop that," Jane said, blocking her path. "I hereby claim this kitchen as my sole domain. Get out."

"You might want to be nicer to me when I'm holding knives," Lisbon remarked.

"Ooh, you and your scary butter knives." Jane rolled his eyes and took the dishes from her.

"Me and my scary gun," she threatened.

Jane decided audacity was called for. "It's kiss the cook, not shoot the cook."

"If I do one, I'll do the other," she promised.

"Hm." Jane pretended to consider. "Might be worth it. Mancini, an expert opinion, please?"

Mancini stared at them. Lisbon gave Jane a half-hearted kick to the ankle and commanded, "Stop trying to give me indigestion. If you won't let me wash dishes, I'll get some more work done."

"That's a waste of a beautiful night," Jane said. "It's too bad you can't go for a walk. Maybe we could play board games."

Mancini made a face. "I doubt there are any. I bet there's a pack of cards here somewhere, though. How about a few hands of poker?"

"No," Lisbon and Cho chorused. Lisbon continued, "We don't play poker with Jane."

"Not for money, anyway," Cho agreed.

"Oh, come on. How good can he be?" Mancini looked skeptical.

"Very good, at cheating," Lisbon said.

"Hey!" Jane protested. "Having a good memory is not, technically speaking, cheating. You act like I keep cards up my sleeve or something."

"I have no doubt you would if you thought you needed to," she shot back.

"But I don't. Look, it won't hurt my feelings if you guys want to play a few hands while I do dishes," he said.

He concealed his delight as they agreed on that plan, located a deck of cards, and sat down to play. Jane took his time with the dishes, enjoying their conversation. It was obvious Cho hadn't taken a liking to Mancini, and it was always fun to listen to him mock someone so subtly they weren't even aware he was doing it. Lisbon would know, though. Jane realized that she might actually welcome a distraction at this rate.

He finished loading the dishwasher, turned it on, and wandered over to the table, circling to look at everyone's hands. Then he settled behind Lisbon, watching her play.

"Stop that," she said over her shoulder.

"What? I'm not interfering."

"Yes, you are. Cho's looking at you to see if I'm bluffing."

Jane grinned. "Maybe I'm messing with him."

"You're afraid of him, remember?"

"Ah, but I'm more afraid of you," Jane said.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Nice to know you're developing a sense of self-preservation in your old age."

"My old age? Ouch." Jane wandered out to the living room and took up residence on the couch, closing his eyes. It was almost as good as his couch in Lisbon's office, because he could listen to her voice and know they were both safe for the moment. A post-dinner nap would be an appropriate reward for a job well done, he decided.

mmm

It was full dark when he woke, and someone had turned out most of the lights in the house. He could still hear Lisbon, though she was speaking too softly for him to make out words. Ah. From the tone, he deduced that she was telling Mancini he wouldn't be getting any tonight. Cho must be out making sure no one was sneaking up on them.

A door closed, and silence fell. Jane considered getting up and sleeping in the room he'd been assigned, but he was comfortable enough where he was. It seemed like a lot of effort for not much gain.

Then he realized someone was in the room with him. He could tell it was Lisbon from her breathing, though she'd taken off her shoes so her approach was quiet. When she spoke, it was so soft that he realized she wasn't sure if he was asleep. "Jane?"

"Mm?" He opened his eyes, straining to see her in the dim light from the single lamp left on across the room.

She shook her head at him, a slight smile forming without apparent intent. "Go sleep in a real bed for a change," she said, still in that soft voice, the one she'd used in the hospital when he'd regained consciousness after drinking the belladonna.

The moment felt unexpectedly intimate to him. He'd enjoyed the domesticity of the evening, and now here she was all but tucking him in. It made his heart ache with remembered tenderness and a fierce homesickness for a home he had lost through his own arrogance. He'd never really thought he could have one again and didn't think he deserved it. This might be as close as he ever came.

He wondered if she ever realized that her quiet gestures of caring were the only emotional link to his happier memories, the only times he truly remembered what it felt like to be loved. But of course she did, he thought. It was his pain that kept Lisbon tied to him, that impulse to lift part of his burden and ease his aching shoulders. He didn't always let her, but just the knowledge that if he turned to her she would give him whatever help she had to give made his life bearable, even on his least bearable days. He never thanked her for that, but he was grateful.

"Jane? Don't go back to sleep. You can't even stretch out on this thing. Go to bed," she urged, laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it a little.

He reached up and laid his hand over hers. "In a minute," he said drowsily. "You want eggs for breakfast?"

She leaned down closer to whisper, "I'd rather have pancakes."

He felt a lazy smile take over his face. Lisbon smiled back, then said, "I got my brothers up for school every single morning, Jane. I have ways of making you get up off this couch, and trust me, you don't want to find out what they are."

"If you hurt me, I'll yell, and Mancini will get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing out here," he said, amused.

"Fine." She straightened back up, looking more like her usual badass self instead of the gentle angel he'd been enjoying so much. "But if you wake up all bent and sore, you still have to cook breakfast."

"Nice fluffy pancakes swimming in syrup," he promised, yawning.

"You don't even have a blanket out here." He could hear the worry in her voice and groaned a little, resigning himself to movement.

The something warm and soft and Lisbon-scented was draped over him, and he realized she'd taken off her robe and spread it over him. "Take off your shoes, at least," she told him.

He kicked off one shoe, then the other. "Night, Lisbon," he said, hoping she could hear the affection in his voice.

"Good night, Jane," she replied, and he could definitely hear the affection in hers. Her hand rested on his head just for an instant, and then she was gone.

Jane smiled, burying his nose in the collar of the robe, still warm from her skin. Maybe he would dream good dreams tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist. I also know nothing about California's gun laws, since I live on the other side of the country and am too lazy to research that.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the support during this story, which has gotten way beyond what I thought it would be. You guys are fantastic, as well as patient! Apparently I can write one-shots or novellas, but nothing in between. Also, this is another loooong chapter. Who knew sticking our heroes in a remote cabin could be so interesting? My muse apparently just wants them to play house. And I've learned not to argue with her!

**Chapter 8**

The sound of someone whispering his name penetrated, but he didn't quite wake up all the way. He'd been sleeping heavier than he was used to, and consciousness seemed like a steep hike to an unattractive destination.

"Jane, get up and go to Lisbon's room," Cho hissed from somewhere nearby.

Jane frowned. Was he dreaming? It seemed unlikely in the extreme that Cho had decided to play matchmaker. "Why?"

"She has a gun and you don't."

"You want her to shoot me?" Because even half-awake, Jane knew that was the most likely outcome of barging into Lisbon's room in the middle of the night.

"I want you not to get shot by whoever's creeping around outside," Cho corrected. "Get your ass in there and tell her I'm going outside. They're at the back, so I'm going out the front."

Awake now, Jane rolled off the couch and felt his way across the darkened room, relieved to find that Lisbon hadn't locked her door. As he opened it, he saw Cho ease the front door open and slip through it. His heart began to pound as he wondered whether it was Red John out there. But he had to make sure Lisbon was put on her guard before he could find out.

"Lisbon," he whispered.

She gave a little huff of annoyance in her sleep, which he would have found amusing at any other time. He crept closer to the bed, saw moonlight glinting off the gun on her nightstand, and carefully picked it up as a precaution. "Lisbon," he called again, a little louder. "Wake up."

She muttered something indistinct, so he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. She sprang awake, startled, and let out a gasp at his silhouette looming over her, one hand slapping at the empty nightstand.

"It's me," he hurried to assure her. "Cho's gone outside. Someone's out back. Here's your gun."

She sat up, snatching it out of his hand. "Stay here," she commanded. "Be quiet, and if you hear someone coming, hide!"

"Don't worry about me. Go!" he urged.

He waited until he heard the front door open before following her.

mmm

Lisbon wished she'd thought to put on shoes as she made her way around the outside of the house, pine needles scratching her bare feet. She also realized she should have woken Mancini. Maybe Jane would think to do it.

Red John wasn't careless enough to get caught sneaking around a house, she thought, but maybe he'd sent someone less capable. Or maybe this was someone else entirely. Or maybe this was a distraction and Red John was already in the house, waiting for them to leave Jane alone and defenseless.

She nearly turned around right then. But she couldn't leave Cho without backup when there was definitely someone out here. She could hear a strange rustling noise; whoever it was could use a few lessons in stealth. That meant it was probably wasn't Red John himself, although it might be an argument for the distraction theory.

Cho must have gone around the other side, she realized when she reached the back corner of the house. Good. They'd have whoever it was surrounded.

Were they digging through the trash? Why? It wasn't like they'd been here long enough to have to take it out, unless Jane had done so while he was cooking. And why would they be interested in that?

"Hands up!" Cho shouted.

"We have you surrounded," Lisbon added, for good measure.

The noises stopped for a moment, and then Lisbon sensed rather than saw movement. It was too dark to shoot, but a moment later Cho's flashlight illuminated the raccoon scurrying for the woods. Lisbon abandoned the cover of the house and went around to where Cho was surveying the trash can, its lid knocked to the ground.

"I'm still tempted to shoot," Cho grumbled.

"If you do, I'm not doing the paperwork," Lisbon warned him. "Let's get back inside."

"I'll get this squared away first. Damn, I hate the woods," Cho said.

Lisbon couldn't help agreeing with him; she was a city girl and always would be. She turned to head back to the front door just as the back door light came on. She changed course and went to that door instead, irritated but unsurprised that Jane hadn't followed her orders. As the door opened, surprise won out. "Gabe! Did we wake you?"

"Yes. What's going on?" He was carrying his weapon, she saw.

"Cho tried to arrest a raccoon," she replied. "Where's Jane?"

"Here," Jane called from the living room, turning on the lights. "A raccoon, huh? Is Cho out there making himself a coonskin cap?"

"If he is, I don't want to know about it," Lisbon said. "Back to bed, everybody." She smiled at Mancini, and he smiled back before heading reluctantly off toward his room.

Jane came forward and handed her her robe. She was grateful she'd packed pajama shorts along with her jersey for this trip, in addition to the revealing nightie that hadn't left her suitcase. Oh, crap, she'd left Jane in her room—he'd probably already been through that, not to mention her toiletries bag.

"Why was your door unlocked?" Jane asked, sounding unhappy about it.

"Because a certain unarmed civilian insisted on remaining in the public spaces of the house," Lisbon retorted, "and I wanted him to be able to get help if he needed it. Go to bed in your room and lock your door, and I'll do the same."

"Fine," he grumbled, heading off in that direction. He left a trail of pine needles in his wake, and she realized there were some stuck to his socks.

"Jane, dammit!" she spat. "You went outside! What part of 'stay in here and hide' did you not understand?"

"I just had to make sure it wasn't Red John," he said, as if that was a reasonable explanation and not an inflammatory remark sure to make her head want to explode.

"And what were you going to do if it was?" she demanded.

"What I've always planned to do. I've never lied to you about that, Lisbon, or concealed my intentions," he pointed out.

"And how were you going to accomplish that unarmed?" Was he losing his mind? "Do you realize you could have put Cho and me in danger with your idiotic behavior?"

"But I didn't. You didn't even know I was there."

Lisbon gritted her teeth. "Go to bed," she ground out, "or so help me God I will knock you unconscious and drag you there." She hefted her weapon meaningfully.

Jane held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going quietly. No need to pistol whip me." He went into his room and made as much noise as possible locking the door behind him.

Cho came in and closed the back door behind him. "You realize he's got a gun," he said quietly.

Oh, crap. That did explain it. She knew she should take it away from him, but if she did and something happened to him, she'd never forgive herself. "Yeah," she sighed.

Cho waited, possibly expecting her to issue relevant orders. She had none. If anyone was going to disarm Jane, it would be her. And she was inclined to get some more sleep before making that call.

"Okay," he said when it became clear she wasn't going to say anything more. "I've got this if you want to get some more sleep."

It seemed unlikely, at least until the adrenaline wore off, but she knew it was the smart thing to do. "Thanks. Hope the rest of your night is quiet."

"If the masked bandit returns, I'll run him off on my own," Cho said. "I'm leaving the light on so I'll be able to spot him easier." He sounded unhappy with himself, as he always did when he made a mistake.

"You have to watch those raccoons," she tried to joke. His expression remained stony, so she said, "See you in the morning. Jane's promised pancakes, and after this stunt, they'd better be damn good ones."

mmm

Jane didn't get much more sleep that night. He regretted giving Lisbon back her robe, but there was probably no way he was getting it back now. He was curious to see whether she'd guessed he was concealing a weapon (at least he'd gotten this one the legal way) and what she would do about it.

As the sun began to peer through the trees, he decided he might as well get up and get dressed. Cho would probably appreciate an early breakfast, and it would be amusing to tease him about his raccoon encounter.

He found his colleague on the couch, reading with the aid of a book light. Cho looked up as he approached and said, "There's a shower off the mud room. You won't wake anyone up if you use that."

"Thanks," Jane said.

"And if you're taking requests, I want blueberry."

"With or without whipped cream?" Jane asked, deciding to go with it, though he was curious as to why Lisbon had felt the need to advertise this morning's breakfast menu.

Cho grimaced. "I want breakfast, not dessert. You got maple syrup, right?"

"Yes, indeed. I don't suppose you'd put the kettle on for me while I freshen up?"

"Sure."

And so began another lovely domestic day, Jane thought. He should enjoy it while it lasted, because he was pretty sure the rest of it was going to feature a quarrel with Lisbon, and that was a side of domestic life he'd just as soon skip.

The shower was refreshing, and he felt more himself once he was properly dressed and presentable. The kettle began to whistle just as he reached the kitchen, and he happily made himself a cup of tea before assembling his ingredients.

The knock on the front door startled him, but Cho seemed to be expecting it. "Double the recipe," Cho said. "That's Rigsby. Right on time."

But when he opened the door, Grace was on the other side. "Good morning," she said. "Ben's running a fever, so Rigsby wanted to stay in town."

"Welcome, Grace," Jane called out. "You're just in time. Blueberry, pecan, or plain?"

"Pancakes," Cho explained at her inquiring look.

"Jane cooks?" she asked.

"Yes." Cho settled back on the couch with his book, leaving Grace to wander into the kitchen.

"Your order, miss?" Jane said briskly, stirring the batter.

She grinned. "Plain is fine. So, how was last night?"

"Oh, it was lovely and quiet until Cho here decided to go coon huntin'," Jane said in his best yokel imitation. "The darn critter got away before he could make a hat out of it, though."

Grace looked like she didn't entirely believe this story, which amused him. He continued, "It'll be good to have a country girl up here who knows what a varmint looks like."

"There aren't a lot of woods in Iowa," she remarked. "Can I help with anything?"

Ah, Grace of the impeccable manners, he thought. "You could set the table, if you can't resign yourself to being waited on. Oh, and start some coffee for Lisbon."

"Sure." She headed for the coffeemaker first. Priorities, after all.

The siren song of the coffeemaker lured Mancini out first, but he appeared only briefly, heading directly into the bathroom across from his room. Cho and Grace were happily digging in to their pancakes before Lisbon emerged, putting the finishing touches on Jane's domestic bliss by appearing adorably tousled and rumpled. He particularly liked the mark on her cheek where she'd slept on a wrinkle in the pillowcase. God, he wanted to run his fingers through her hair and comb out the tangles, preferably while kissing her senseless.

Instead, he said, "Blueberry, pecan, or plain? No, wait. Your mind is much easier to read when it hasn't been marinated in coffee. Blueberry." He began mixing up a fresh bowl of batter.

"Bite me," she muttered as she passed him on her way to the coffeemaker.

"And whipped cream," he added, pushing his luck as usual. In the daylight, he could see that her robe was wine red and obviously expensive. A gift, then. From a brother, picked out by a sister-in-law? From the way she kept pushing at the slightly too long sleeves, he guessed she rarely if ever wore it. Apparently this was her stab at decorum while sharing a house with coworkers and a man she was supposedly dating but had no intention of sleeping with while said coworkers were within earshot.

"I only like whipped cream on my hot chocolate," she said, lifting her filled mug to her lips and taking a deep breath.

Or pie, he thought. But that was much too dangerous to think about here and now. "There might be some in the cupboard, but I'm afraid it would be the instant kind," he said. If someone made another trip to the store, he'd be sure to put cocoa on the list. And baker's chocolate for shavings.

"Never mind," she said, as if her cupboards never housed anything so mundane as powdered drinks, which he knew wasn't true. "Morning, Grace."

"Morning, boss," Grace replied after swallowing her mouthful of pancake. "Ben's sick, so Rigsby and I switched shifts."

"Nothing serious, I hope," Lisbon said, frowning a little. Oh, she was such a mother hen, Jane thought fondly.

"Something going around, I think," Grace replied. "He'll be at the office; he just didn't want to leave town until the fever came down. Jane, these are amazing."

"We should make him cook more often," Cho said.

Jane decided to nip this idea in the bud. "You never want to eat something the cook was forced to prepare," he warned. "It's the joy in the meal that makes the difference."

"Or the apology," Lisbon muttered.

"Yes, penitence can also be an effective seasoning. Sit down, Lisbon. Your pancakes will be ready momentarily."

"Who put you in charge?" she grumbled, not moving.

"I declared this kitchen my domain last night, remember? You're trespassing. I allowed it because only someone in search of a painful death would come between you and your morning coffee. But now that you have that, you should go take a seat and stay out of my way."

She went, but she accidentally-on-purpose bumped into him as she did. He was tempted to swat her cute little butt with his spatula, but he was pretty sure she really would kill him, if only to save face in front of her team.

He derived great amusement from watching her sit down at the table, drink her coffee, and gradually realize she was the only person in the room who didn't look like she was at work. He surmised that she was particularly chagrined to compare herself to Grace, who had not a hair out of place and looked her usual stunning self. If this really were the domestic fantasy he was constructing in his head, he would reassure Lisbon that no woman in the world could hold a candle to her fresh from her bed. Of course, in that fantasy he was the one who'd messed up her hair and put that faint color in her cheeks. He wondered briefly if her robe smelled a little like him this morning. He hoped so.

Jane was just setting a stack of pancakes in front of Lisbon when Mancini emerged from the bathroom, looking like he was walking into a management meeting. Middle management, Jane amended. "Good morning, everyone."

"Hi," Grace said. "I don't think we've met. Grace Van Pelt."

"Gabe Mancini," he responded. "You're one of Teresa's people?"

"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you. We're so grateful for your help."

Mancini smiled at her. "It's the least I could do for Teresa." He turned his smile Lisbon's way, and she'd had enough coffee now to return it.

"Would you like some pancakes?" Lisbon offered. "They're really good."

"Thanks, I would," he replied, taking the seat beside her at the table. "I'm sorry I'm not going to see what our chef has planned for lunch. But it looks like you've got it covered here, so unless you think I should stay, I'll get back to the office. You have a way to call for help if you need to, don't you?"

"Burner phone," Cho said.

"I really appreciate all your help," Lisbon said. "And of course I won't keep you here doing nothing when you could be out rescuing kidnap victims."

He looked pleased that she mentioned it, and Jane thought it was no wonder Lisbon had offered to let him cut their dinner at his place short if all Mancini talked about was work. Didn't the man realize she had basically the same job and got enough of it at the office? But Jane was so pleased to be rid of him that he abandoned his plan to become distracted and burn Mancini's pancakes.

mmm

Half an hour later, Jane was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up. Cho had offered to stay now that Mancini was leaving, but Lisbon had told him to stick to the plan. Grace was out familiarizing herself with the immediate vicinity after she realized that, manners aside, Jane truly was feeling territorial about the kitchen and didn't want help cleaning up. That just left Mancini, and then he was sure Lisbon would tackle him about last night. Damn those pine needles anyway. He should have stopped to put on his shoes, and then he could have kicked them off again before she saw anything.

But meanwhile, there was drama going on in the living room, and Jane kept a close ear and occasional eye on it while taking a ridiculous amount of time loading (and unloading, and reloading) the dishwasher so they wouldn't think he was observing them. Lisbon was doing her best to live up to Mancini's passive-aggressive expectations of her, Jane thought. Despite the fact that she regularly rode roughshod over anyone who got in her way, there was a side of her that wanted to please people she cared about. He wondered if that difference was related to her professional versus personal roles. She'd probably had a lot of training in appeasement with her father, he guessed. She was certainly very good at soothing ruffled feathers when she needed to. And he knew because usually he was the one ruffling them.

Ah, finally, the good-bye kiss. That was worth observing. Mancini was being too aggressive; Lisbon didn't like to feel constrained, and she liked to be in control. Mancini wasn't the man to let her have it, though. That relationship was going nowhere; it didn't need interference to kill it. In fact, Jane thought, he might have artificially extended its life by giving Mancini the opportunity to offer this cabin as their safehouse. Lisbon wouldn't kick him to the curb while she felt indebted to him.

He'd sometimes wondered why none of the men who pursued Lisbon had ever asked him for tips. He certainly had enough of them to give, if he chose. Not that he would, necessarily. And of course all it would take to doom a prospective boyfriend would be to mention to Lisbon that said man had consulted him. He grinned a little, picturing her anger and indignation. That would be a good trick to use if it became necessary—the other man's denial would mean nothing if Jane were convincing enough. It wouldn't work with Mancini, but maybe with the next man who thought he could handle Teresa Lisbon. None of them could, of course. She was much deeper and more complex than any of them ever guessed, and she didn't give many clues.

The sound of the door closing pulled him back into the present, but not fast enough. He'd been caught staring, but all Lisbon did was roll her eyes at him as she headed to her room, then came immediately back out with an armful of clothes and went into the bathroom. She was obviously not going to confront him until she had donned her professional garb. Well, he admitted, he'd have a hard time taking her seriously if he was distracted by how cute she was in that slightly too-big robe with her finger-combed hair. And besides, that robe held symbolic meaning for him now. Every time he looked at it he remembered how warm and comforting it was and how he had felt when she spread it over him. He wouldn't be able to process her anger and irritation while part of his mind was still in that moment.

He decided to do a little reading while waiting for his lecture, but he was no sooner settled on the couch than Grace came in, smiling. "It's gorgeous out there," she told him. "It's too bad we have to stay cooped up inside. It's a perfect day for a picnic."

"Maybe we could picnic in the yard," Jane said, thinking about whether he could manage a pasta salad from the contents of the refrigerator.

Grace shook her head regretfully. "There's too much cover in all those trees. The house is where we're safest." She sat down in the chair set at a right angle to the couch. "Do you really think Red John will come here because you wrote a stupid note?"

"Maybe," he said. "That wasn't my intent, but he is probably looking for some way to punish me for rejecting his offer in Vegas. He might take advantage of the situation."

"You really think Mancini might be working for Red John?"

She looked prepared to accept it, as incredible as it might seem to anyone else. He wondered if she ever blamed him for not spotting O'Loughlin, but asking her would only provoke a denial. She would never say anything hurtful to him unless she was too angry to stop herself. She was a kind and credulous person, and in his former life he would have regarded her as a gift from the gods. He still did, but for her loyalty rather than how easy it was to fool her. Though he allowed himself a little fun with the latter from time to time.

"I think we can't really be sure of anyone," Jane said. "So we have to look very closely at anyone who makes an effort to get close to one of us."

He watched as Grace tried to find some way to say "I don't want Lisbon to get hurt the way I did" that he could not take as an accusation. He wished he had something to tell her that would make her feel less terrible about that whole engaged-to-a-serial-killer's-disciple episode. He could try, he supposed. "I can't always spot them. I suppose he knows me too well, knows the kind of people I'm interested in and the ones I dismiss as uninteresting. Rebecca and O'Loughlin fell into the latter category. So I'm trying to pay more attention to everyone, but that's difficult. I initially pegged Mancini as someone I could easily manipulate, but maybe that's part of his cover. I'm not usually interested in people I know I can outwit."

"But that's pretty much everyone, at least sometimes," she remarked. "Isn't that...doesn't that make you feel lonely? Lonelier than you need to be?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. He wasn't interested in discussing his emotions with Van Pelt, or anyone really. Except, sometimes, Lisbon. "But I have these coworkers who don't believe a word I say and refuse to play poker with me, so it's not like I'm alone in the world."

She shook her head, smiling. "I'm glad you know that. So. What do you guys do all day up here?"

"I did a lot of reading yesterday. Today, though, since there are fewer of us, I might indulge in some of my other pastimes."

"Driving Lisbon crazy?" she guessed.

"That is one of your favorite spectator sports, isn't it?" He watched, grinning, as her instinct to deny it warred with her inherent truthfulness.

"Only from a safe distance," was the answer she finally came up with.

He mentally applauded her, noting that the shower had stopped. He wondered if he should warn Grace to be looking for that safe distance, but then the blow dryer came on and he knew he had a few more minutes. "You're in for a treat today, then. I got caught in an unauthorized activity last night, and she hasn't had the chance to explain to me in detail all the reasons I was being an idiot. I have no intention of altering my behavior, so it may get a bit loud."

Grace's look of horrified amusement—or amused horror?—was a familiar one. "What did you do? Wasn't it a raccoon causing the trouble?"

"It was, but I decided to go see for myself instead of cowering in the closet, which I gather is what I was supposed to be doing."

Her eyes widened. "You can't go wandering around in what could turn out to be a crossfire, Jane!"

"Oh please. Give me credit for more intelligence than that. Anyway, save your breath. Lisbon will give me the same lecture much less politely." He waved a dismissive hand.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Fine, be that way. I'll leave you to it."

She was just opening the back door when Lisbon came into the room. "Just a minute, Grace."

"Yes, Boss?" Grace shut the door and took a few steps back into the room. Not very many, Jane noted.

"You should be aware that Jane is concealing a weapon," Lisbon said bluntly. "Don't assume he's harmless at your back."

Jane bristled at the implication. "I'm not a careless shot, Lisbon."

"You'd better not be. If you hurt any of my team in your insane vigilante mission, I'll shove that gun straight up your ass. I should take it away from you, but given that we might be facing a serial killer, I'll overlook your illegal possession of a firearm."

"You have no grounds," Jane said, unable to contain his victorious smirk. "I actually did everything the right way this time. I have a concealed carry permit and everything."

Lisbon held out her hand, so Jane pulled out his wallet and handed the permit to her. "Lisbon," he said reasonably, "you don't expect me to draw Red John's attention to you and then not do everything I can think of to protect you, do you?"

She handed the permit back to him and closed her eyes. "No, Jane," she sighed. "I expect you to do pretty much just what you did. But what I wish you would do is behave like a member of the team and tell us these things so we can allocate our resources most effectively."

He smirked at her sudden descent into management-speak, which usually meant she was worried about being reprimanded for his actions. "And if you'd known I was armed, what would you have done differently?"

"Locked you in a closet," she muttered.

Jane chuckled. "You need to work on your ideas of incentives for proper behavior," he advised.

"I've given up on getting you to behave properly, Jane. Now I just want everybody to stay alive," she replied.

He had the unsettling feeling that was more true than even she knew.

"And don't tell me you did all this for my sake," she continued. "It takes more than a day to buy a gun and get a permit. You didn't learn a damn thing from the Timothy Carter mess, did you?"

This was beginning to remind him uncomfortably of arguments he'd had with Angela. And she had, in retrospect, been entirely right. "I won't make that mistake again. Lisbon, things have changed. He tried to make me give up by making me think I'd killed him. Then I tried to make him think I'd given up, and he reached out to me. The theme here is that he's tired of the old game. Notice how quiet he's been lately?"

"Don't jinx us," she murmured.

"When he comes back for another round, he'll want to make sure it's the last one." He hated saying this to her, but maybe if she understood, she really would be safer.

"Which is why you can't be wandering around in the dark by yourself. If I'd known you were armed, I would have taken you with me," she admitted. "Instead of being distracted by worrying that this was some kind of trick to get us to leave you alone."

"He doesn't want to kill me, Lisbon. He wants to make sure I know he's won. He wants me to live with that knowledge." Her fixation on his safety annoyed him. Why couldn't she see the obvious? Then it hit him: she was obsessed with her worst fear, which was losing him. He'd be touched if the stakes weren't so high. "I know who he's coming for. I thought we might gain an advantage by handing him an opportunity he couldn't resist, where he might have to improvise a little. But you need to stop worrying about me and stay on your guard. No more sleeping with your door unlocked and your gun on the nightstand where anybody could take it."

Lisbon stared at him in disbelief. "You're going to lecture me about safety precautions?"

Grace apparently decided it was safer outside, slipping through the door as quietly as she could. Jane couldn't blame her; Lisbon looked like she was fantasizing about which of his body parts she'd like to chop off first. Or possibly rip off with her bare hands.

In the end, she did neither, of course. But it looked like a close call from where he was sitting.

"Screw you," she hissed, and went into her room, slamming the door.

Ah. He'd forgotten about this side of domestic life. And he was pretty sure it was going to take more than a good meal or two to get out of the doghouse this time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist, and no profit is being made by me, despite my growing stack of Christmas shopping bills!

**Author's Note: **Oh, you're still here! Good! This chapter was fun to write, though I'm not sure I've gotten them completely in character. We're getting close to the action of the story, so I hope you enjoy this rainy day in the cabin.

**Chapter 9**

It was a long morning, and Jane began to realize that being stuck in a house with one woman who had barricaded herself in her room to avoid killing him and another who deeply sympathized with her, with no chance of a case coming along to force them all to at least pretend to get along, was not a good thing. When the sky began to darken as a storm front rolled in, he decided to fix lunch a little early.

"There's a generator," Grace remarked.

"But does it power everything, or just some things?" Jane pointed out. "It's not like I'm otherwise occupied. Would you prefer tuna salad or chicken salad?"

"Chicken," Grace decided. "I'm going outside one more time before it starts pouring. Hey, do you think we should bring in some firewood?"

"Couldn't hurt," Jane said.

They ate a quiet lunch, and then Grace announced her intention of taking a nap since she would be up all night. "Will you be okay out here?" she asked.

"Of course. I may make a fire, or take a nap myself."

"See you later. Thanks for lunch!" she called, heading for her room.

Jane cleaned up, then decided to build a fire. It would make a nice contrast to the rain pattering against the windows. He didn't really feel like reading anymore, and he'd slept so well the first part of last night that he wasn't in the mood for a nap either. He ended up sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, watching the fire and thinking.

Things had been going so well. He'd enjoyed living in a house with other people around, even if one of them had been Mancini. Seeing new sides of Lisbon more than made up for the minor annoyance of her would-be boyfriend hanging around. But as usual, the specter of Red John had appeared to ruin everything.

No, he admitted, it wasn't Red John who'd ruined his little vacation; it was his obsession with him and the secretive habits that went along with it. Pretty much every serious disagreement he'd ever had with Lisbon was rooted in that. He realized he was tired of it, and he could only guess how weary of it Lisbon must be. And it looked like this trap was destined to remain unsprung, so he couldn't even console himself that he was any closer to his quarry.

His thoughts drifted to the version of his daughter he'd hallucinated and her impatience with his quest. Obviously part of his mind wasn't so dedicated to his obsession. Maybe a growing part. Was it possible he would someday reach a point where he wanted to give up? What would that even look like? He certainly wasn't eager to walk away from the CBI again.

The sound of a door being opened caught his attention, and he stayed quiet as he listened to Lisbon walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Ah, someone was getting used to being fed regularly. He called out, "There's chicken salad in the green bowl."

The sound of something being dropped against a glass shelf told him she hadn't known he was there. "Geez, Jane," she muttered. "Where are you?"

"Down here." He raised a hand and waved at her. "The bread's in the breadbox, and if you insist on insulting my skill by slathering mayonnaise on the bread, it's in the door. There's a fruit salad in the blue dish if you like."

"Thanks," she said grudgingly.

He listened to her making her lunch, enjoying the homey sounds even though he knew this was only a temporary truce before the war resumed. She might decide it was useless to lecture him further, but without work to interrupt, he bet she could give him the silent treatment for days. He didn't look forward to it.

He was surprised when she brought her plate and glass of water into the living room, settling in the corner of the couch where she had a good view of his profile but he couldn't see her without craning his neck. Hm, this was a new variation on the silent treatment. Being stared at, even by Lisbon, was a little unsettling. He decided that trying to change the situation would only lead to more unpleasantness. Let her punish him in whatever way she chose, he thought. From her perspective, he certainly deserved it. Hell, from his perspective too.

He risked a glance at her when he heard her set her plate on the floor. She was lovely in the firelight, but the shadows made her look pensive and a little sad. That was so much worse than her anger. He began trying and discarding things to say that would take that frown off her face. Why hadn't he thought to put marshmallows on the shopping list? Roasting a few would be a perfect distraction.

The only warning he got was her intake of breath, steeling herself, before she asked, "When you said I could ask you for anything, was that a one-time offer?"

His mouth went suddenly dry. He was sure she wasn't going to take him up on what he'd been offering that night, which meant she had something in mind he wasn't going to like. But he was reluctant to take his words back, because damn it, he'd meant them. "No. You can always ask me for anything, Lisbon." He wanted to add something facetious about ignoring any petty requests like behaving on cases and not pulling stunts in courtrooms, but he sensed she was serious about this.

"Okay." Her voice was nervous, but determined. This was going to be bad, he thought.

She took another fortifying breath. "May I have one hour of honesty, please?"

He swallowed. Her polite phrasing was at odds with her firm tone, and he realized she expected him to refuse. She was making a point, which was that he was full of shit and she was right not to trust him. And she was using words that he had spoken honestly to do it. He'd be furious if he weren't secretly proud of her.

"That's what I thought," she said, standing. Anger and disappointment warred for dominance in her tone and, he saw when he looked up, her posture.

"One hour of honesty," he said resolutely. "I'm sure you have some ground rules?"

She looked down at him in astonishment. "For one hour, you tell me only the truth. No lies, no misdirects."

He returned her stare, equally determined. "Am I allowed to decline to answer certain questions?" He was going to do this, he thought, but he didn't have to unilaterally disarm.

Lisbon thought about it, while he enjoyed watching her try to outwit him. She knew that to agree would render the hour basically useless, but to compel his answers to any question she asked might prove damaging to more than his pride. "You may," she said, "but for each question you refuse to answer, I will add one minute to the hour."

Oh, she was good. "Agreed. And in return, I will agree that if this gets too painful for you, you may stop without forfeiting the time remaining. We can resume when you choose."

She looked surprised at the idea that he might not be the only one who would find this painful. _Oh_, _Lisbon_, he thought. _Be_ _careful_ _what_ _you_ _do_ _to_ _us_.

Because he could guess at least one of her questions, and he had no idea how to answer her honestly when he hadn't even answered himself.

mmm

Lisbon sat back down on the couch, a little dazed. She wondered if she might be dreaming; it seemed impossible that Jane had agreed to this. Or maybe he was playing her somehow. Maybe, she realized as she looked down at him, he was betting she wouldn't have the guts to ask anything too personal. Did he think she'd waste this opportunity talking about Red John? He'd tell her any thoughts on that eventually anyway, just not when she thought he should.

He had some nerve underestimating her. She jumped right in. "Why did you pretend to forget telling me you love me?"

Jane gave what looked like an involuntary smile, gone almost as soon as it appeared. He didn't take his eyes off the fire as he said, "It didn't seem like the time or place to get into a possibly lengthy discussion." He paused before adding, "Plus, you looked like you might bolt at any second. I had to help you get your head in the game."

She made a face at him, which he couldn't see. "We have time now. So what was that about? Panicked babbling?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say panicked, but it was certainly unintentional."

She should have made him promise to tell her the whole truth, she thought. "Okay," she said. "So all that in the diner wasn't about love, just a passing moment of lust. Got it."

He opened his mouth, but caught himself, apparently realizing she hadn't asked a question. Then he grimaced and shook his head. "You're oversimplifying."

"What's to oversimplify?" she said, as if it didn't matter a bit. "You rediscovered the joys of sex, realized you missed it, and thought to yourself, 'Hey, I can talk Lisbon into anything, and she's not bad looking. I'll have a go at her.' Totally understandable, I guess. Though not really something a true friend would do."

"That wasn't what I was thinking, and you know it. I already agreed to be honest, Lisbon, so you don't have to try to make me angry hoping I'll let something slip." His usual smugness faltered for just a second, and she thought she saw anger there no matter what he said.

He was right. There was no reason not to be direct. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." He said it firmly, with no hesitation.

Dammit, that just raised more questions, she thought in annoyance. "Like a sister?"

He scowled up at her. "If I had a sister, I hope to God I wouldn't sit across the table from her thinking about what she'd enjoy in bed."

The thrill went straight through her, down to her toes. She couldn't speak for a moment, and her voice was a little unsteady as she asked, "What did you decide?"

Jane looked at her with that intense gaze he'd had in the diner, and his voice dropped into that low, rough tone that made all her hair stand on end. "I'll give you a chance to withdraw that question, Lisbon. Because if I answer it, you won't be able to get it out of your head. And we're not going to be in a position to do anything about it for a while."

She swallowed. "All right, I'll ask something else. What—what would it mean to you if we slept together?"

Jane rested his elbows on his bent knees and let out a long breath. "There's not a short answer for that."

"Then give me the long one."

He was quiet for a while, fidgeting with his wedding ring as he often did when he was unsure about something. He didn't seem to know he did it, and it reminded her that he was fragile in unexpected ways. The symbolism of his unconscious gesture wasn't lost on her: she was basically thinking about sleeping with a married man. It wasn't so much that he was married to a ghost, but to his quest. She would only be his mistress, and there would be no divorce to clear the way for anything more.

She needed to stop this. She hadn't started it with any intention of touching off a seismic event in their relationship, the only stable thing in his life. It hadn't occurred to her until now that he might hide the truth to protect something so important to them both. "You don't have to—" she began.

He started talking at the same time. "I don't remember the last words I said to Charlotte. I know the gist of it—she was asking me for a new dolly she'd seen somewhere. But I was in a hurry, running late, and I basically blew her off." He took a deep breath. "That's the worst part about lasts. You don't know that time is the last, so you don't take the time to slow down, cherish the moment."

Lisbon kept silent and still, afraid any interruption would crack his composure.

"It's the same with my wife. I didn't know our last time was our last. It was just an ordinary night, and there was no reason to think there wouldn't be a thousand more like it. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to recapture it, but I didn't bother to commit it to memory at the time, and by the time I could think again, it was mostly gone."

Tears gathered in Lisbon's eyes, and she tried to blink them back. She knew how that felt; how many times had she tried to remember exactly what she'd said to her mother before she left that day?

"So you ask me what it would mean to me to be with you. It would mean a chance to really cherish a moment again, to wonder at what a lucky bastard I am. A chance to rest in the arms of someone who knows me and cares about me once more before I die. It would mean I could be grateful that for once I was giving instead of taking, that I could be sure you'd have at least one good memory of me, one moment when I knew you weren't regretting the day I came into your life."

He paused. "I don't really know what else to tell you, or if that answers your question. I guess I think of you as my last chance in a way. Who else would ever put up with me long enough to really know me? And I know that's selfish, but it's not a surprise to you that I'm selfish." His expression became wry as he tried for his normal tone again. "And I'm well aware that the emotional mess I just admitted to will most likely put you off the entire idea for good, since you've always dropped men like hot potatoes once you find out they have issues. The last thing you want is a needy emotional wreck."

"The last thing I want is _another_ needy emotional wreck," she corrected. "You, I'm stuck with."

He grinned up at her, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were still sad. She swallowed the fierce urge to put her arms around him, knowing that wasn't what he needed from her at times like these. "Are you going to work an analysis of my behavior into every answer?"

The false grin converted into a smaller but more honest smile. "It's not against your rules, so probably. I have to have _some_ fun."

Fun. That was what they needed after her ill-advised attempt to delve into his thoughts. She should have realized that forcing him to talk about his feelings robbed them of what should have been an intimate moment, changing it into a painful interrogation. How had her clever plan to punish him and satisfy her curiosity at the same time lost its luster so quickly? She could stop anytime, but she doubted she'd want to pick it back up again.

Jane took a deep breath. "Okay. Next?"

She grinned down at him as another brilliant idea struck her. "Poker."

Jane blinked at her, startled. She savored the expression. "You want to use your remaining minutes of honesty to play poker?"

"Sure. If you can't bluff, I might have a chance of winning, memory palace and all," she said triumphantly.

"Ah," Jane said, rubbing his hands together. "A challenge!"

mmm

Grace seemed amazed to find them playing poker and laughing together two hours later. Jane wondered if she was more surprised at their reconciliation or the fact that Lisbon's pile of corn chips was slightly larger than his own. Though surely she was used to the former by now.

The three of them passed a pleasant evening, taking turns coming up with ways to handicap him so Lisbon and Grace had a chance at beating him. He even agreed to play blindfolded, wrapping his fingers around Lisbon's wrist so he could read her pulse as he discarded. He lost, but not badly, and the sparkle of amused triumph in Lisbon's eyes evaporated the sting of defeat.

Really, he thought, he should arrange for them to be holed up in a safe house more often. At least once a year. Now that would be a New Year's resolution he could never admit to anyone.

He had to bow out to fix dinner, a simple meal of spaghetti since he was starting too late to undertake anything complicated. Lisbon and Grace kept playing, and their good-natured smack talk kept him amused while he worked.

"Wine?" he asked as he began setting the table.

"I'm on duty." Grace shook her head.

"We're all on duty," Lisbon agreed.

"It was just a thought," he said, shrugging. That was the problem with using a serial killer to set up this little interlude, he thought. He'd given up on Red John making a move, pretty much, but the minute Lisbon did, this would all be over. "It's not every night I get to have a nice dinner with my two favorite women."

Grace and Lisbon looked at him with identical "you're so full of it" expressions. Grace said, "Do you even know any other women, Jane?"

"Know, yes. Slave away in the kitchen for, no." He set the huge serving bowl of pasta down on the table.

"That smells great," Grace said.

"Much more of this and I'll have to go on a diet," Lisbon remarked.

Jane let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. "Lisbon, that is the most delusional thing I've ever heard you say. We'd have to be here six months at least before you were anywhere near overweight."

"All I've done is sit, sleep, and eat. I'll be pulling out the fat jeans in no time," she lamented.

"And what are those, a size two?" he scoffed. "I am prepared to lay out one entire paycheck that you'll leave here weighing no more than you did this time last year."

"I don't bet paychecks," Lisbon replied, taking a heaping helping. "Think of something else."

He was delighted. He won either way, after all. He'd like to see her angles smoothed out, just a little. Although she could get downright pudgy and he'd probably still find her ridiculously adorable. "Okay. I'll bet you a month's supply of diner pie."

She gave him a look that started as surprise and heated to speculation. "I don't know. Seems to me I get fat either way. How about if I win, you start jogging with me?"

Grace choked on her drink. Jane said, "With stakes like those, I may be forced to extreme measures to avoid losing."

"Oh, like you wouldn't anyway," Lisbon said. "Take it or leave it, Jane."

"You're on," he said. "Though I seem to be at a disadvantage here, since I'll have to take your word for how much you weighed last year."

"What, the master of observation can't estimate my weight at a glance?"

"I learned early in life that guessing a woman's weight is a no-win proposition," he replied. Reflectively, he added, "That was the first time I ever got punched in the nose."

"Who was she?" Grace asked.

A knock on the door startled them. Lisbon immediately got up, drawing her weapon and motioning for Grace to come with her. "Under the table," she ordered him.

"Really?" he whined. "Won't that look pretty stupid if it's just a neighbor? Besides, Red John doesn't knock."

"Get out of sight," she hissed.

"Teresa?" came Mancini's voice from outside. "It's just me."

Lisbon and Grace exchanged glances but remained on alert as they approached the door. It was just Mancini after all, though, looking slightly less dapper than usual as a result of the steady drizzle.

"Gabe," Lisbon said, surprised. "We didn't expect you. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," he said. "I just missed you." He leaned in for a kiss, and Lisbon let him, though Jane could see she wasn't comfortable with an audience.

Grace smiled. "You're just in time for dinner."

"It smells great. Did you cook?" He smiled back.

With a laugh, Grace said, "Oh no, Jane hasn't let me in the kitchen at all. It's nice to have a home cooked meal I don't have to cook!"

"Glad you enjoyed it," Mancini said, "because I checked in with Cho before I left, and he told me they caught a new case. And Rigsby's boy has gotten worse, so he wondered if you might go back and help out. I took tomorrow off, so I can cover for you."

Jane was pleased that Lisbon glanced at him, looking for his take on this, before turning back to Mancini. "Oh, no, poor Ben! What is it, did he say?"

"No, but apparently teething is also involved," Mancini said. "Poor kid."

"Should I go, Boss?" Grace was clearly torn. "I hate to leave you guys alone up here."

Lisbon looked at Mancini, then at Jane again, obviously hoping for a clear read. He gave her a little nod, his heart speeding up. Mancini was definitely not telling them everything, but they had nothing to gain by calling his bluff at this point. They couldn't check with Cho without the risk of revealing their location, after all. And if this was the beginning of a gambit by Red John, he'd just as soon have Grace out of it.

Lisbon said, "Finish your dinner before you start back. You might as well enjoy the sole perk of this assignment."

Grace's smile lit up her face. "Thanks!"

"And don't worry," Mancini added. "I won't let anything happen to Teresa."

Jane noted that he made no promises about him. So much for what had looked like a lovely evening.

mmm

At least Mancini, the only one of them who'd worked all day, went to bed first. Jane felt it was the least he could do, since he was such a poor substitute for Grace's company. He'd ended up banished to the couch to read, because it was so awkward sitting at a table with one person who did his best to pretend he wasn't there and another who was making every effort to include him in the conversation, even if it was about basketball or some such nonsense.

Once Lisbon was finished with the obligatory goodnight kiss in Mancini's doorway, she joined him on the couch. He put down his book and smiled at her, looking for clues about her mood.

"So?" she prompted.

"I won't be bothering to put on my pajamas tonight," he replied.

"You own pajamas?" Well, he couldn't blame her for her surprise. He slept in his clothes at the office, and often when they were staying in a hotel.

"I do," he said. "Not nearly as nice as your lovely robe, though."

"Oh, that. James' wife is always trying to bring out my feminine side," she sighed. It sounded like a quote.

"Well, I for one am grateful for her gift, if not for the misdirected impulse behind it," he said. "It made a very soothing blanket."

She gave him a solemn look. "Sleep in your room tonight with the door locked. Promise me."

"I will if you will."

"Deal." She turned sideways to face him, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. It was a self-soothing move, and he hoped he wasn't the reason she needed comfort. "So you think this is it?"

He dropped his voice to match her quiet tone. "Maybe. It's hard to be sure. It could really be that Ben is worse. And of course you _are_ irresistible, well worth a long drive to see even without the possibility of sex."

She rolled her eyes, her normal response to his compliments. He regretted not getting in a few while he was still in the hour of honesty so she couldn't easily dismiss them as teasing or outright mockery.

She was looking troubled. Well, it couldn't be easy to think her boyfriend was using her in one of Red John's games. At least he'd had no illusions about Lorelei. He selfishly hoped this would help her see that encounter in a new, more sympathetic light.

"I want to thank you," she said softly.

He blinked at her. Had she really just said that? Or was he hallucinating? Maybe Mancini had slipped something into his after-dinner tea? "What for?" he asked, letting his incredulity show.

"For today. I know that wasn't easy. It wasn't my intent to be cruel."

He shook his head. "You weren't. I've been far more cruel to you at times." For six months, for example.

"True," she said thoughtfully. "But I was angry, and you could have blown me off, but you didn't. I appreciate that."

"There's a time for everything, even honesty." He smiled as if it were a joke, even though it wasn't. "And you let me off easy, all things considered." Though he'd known she would. Showing her his scars was a sure way to defuse her anger. Her compassion was stronger than her fury, every single time.

"I just want you to know," she said slowly, picking her words with unusual care, "you can always ask me for anything, too."

He was touched, he really was. But she was being absurd. "Lisbon, I ask you for things on a nearly constant basis. And you say yes far more than you ought to. Your generosity is one of the wonders of my world."

She smiled, accepting the compliment for once. "I feel like I spend a lot of time telling you no."

"Not about the important things. No other person in the world would have let me talk her into a scheme after admitting I'd been conning her for six whole months, especially since I did it in the most heartbreaking way possible."

He expected her to deny the heartbroken part, but she didn't. "I know you never hurt me for the sake of hurting me," she said. "It's always collateral damage from your quest. A quest I want to help you with, by the way. Even though we might not agree on the ending."

He nodded. They definitely didn't agree on that, and never would. Though he suspected her thoughts might be evolving, she would never admit it, least of all to him.

She unfolded herself and got to her feet, to his great disappointment. "Promise you'll go to bed soon and not wander around in the night."

"I could sleep on the floor in your room if it would make you feel better," he offered with a sly grin.

"Only if you agree to be handcuffed to something," she retorted.

"Oooooo. Tempting." He got a kick out of the momentary panic in her eyes before she mirrored his own mischievous expression.

"I will keep that in mind."

Then she was gone. He waited only a few minutes before fulfilling his promise and going to his room. Much as he was tempted to play bait, he didn't want to compromise her safety. And he knew she would come to check that he'd done as told before she allowed herself to fall asleep.

They both needed their rest. Tomorrow was shaping up to be an interesting day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist, and I'm only profiting from this by feeding my feedback addition.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts and favorites after the last chapter! Glad you liked the "honest hour" thing. Almost every relationship could benefit from that, but I think it's far more fun to read about than to actually do. And jw, interesting points about intimacy being about content versus context. I'll have to think about that one. But I think really Lisbon was just looking for an excuse to cut it short. She got a little more than she bargained for with that request, after all. And she might have eventually felt obligated to do a little truth telling of her own if she'd kept dragging it out of him. :)

**Chapter 10**

Jane didn't sleep much, and he welcomed the sunrise when it finally came. He decided he wanted eggs today; if Lisbon wanted something else, she could ask. He didn't care what Mancini wanted.

Midway through scrambling his eggs, he noticed that Lisbon had set up the coffeemaker last night. He took the hint and turned it on, and as the scent wafted through the open kitchen, across the living room, and down the hall, he started to hear sounds from Lisbon's room. He grinned. It was like having a bat signal for his own personal superhero.

But when Lisbon shuffled out, not bothering to brush her hair back from her face, a different comparison came to mind. "Uh oh," he said. "The zombies are on the move, only this one seems to need coffee before she starts looking for brains to eat."

"Ha, ha," she muttered, taking up her station in front of the coffee pot as the machine began to make sputtering noises, a sure sign it was almost done. "Don't worry, Jane. I'm pretty sure your brain is too exotic to be on the menu."

"Yes," he reflected. "It's probably pretty spicy, at that. Would you like eggs, or perhaps an omelette?"

"Scrambled egg whites," she replied, reaching for the coffee pot.

"Lisbon, not even for you will I commit such an atrocity." He shuddered dramatically. "Yolks and whites were meant to be inseparable. Your request is an affront to the breakfast gods."

She muttered something about it being too early for blasphemy and went to the table to drink her coffee and wake up.

"Did you not sleep?" he asked, surprised.

"Somebody had to be on watch," she said into her mug.

"You should have let me. I didn't sleep much anyway." He realized with horror that her conscientiousness was going to condemn him to a day with only Mancini for company. Even he didn't think he deserved that miserable a fate. Thinking quickly, he changed plans and handed her the plate of eggs he'd cooked for himself. "Here, eat up so you can go back to bed. I'll keep an eye on things."

"Can I trust you not to do something stupid?" she grumbled.

"You can trust me not to do something stupid that's quiet enough for you to sleep through," he grinned.

She snorted and held out a hand. "Ketchup."

Jane clutched at his chest. "Lisbon! Those eggs are perfectly cooked and meant to be savored, not drowned in a hideous sugary excuse for a condiment! At least taste them before you defile them!"

Lisbon let out a long-suffering sigh and put a forkful in her mouth. "Mm. Buttery. You won't win the bet at this rate, Jane. God, your cholesterol must be through the roof."

He smiled at how wifely she sounded, but he had enough sense to let it pass without comment, occupying himself with another batch of eggs. In no time, he had his plate ready, and he set it on the table before remembering his tea, still sitting on the counter. Retrieving it, he started back just as Lisbon got up in search of more coffee, and he barely avoided dousing them both with tea as they collided.

"Whoa," he said, quickly setting his cup on the counter and taking her elbow to steady her. "No need to trample me. I wasn't trying to come between you and your coffee."

"You're in my way now," she grumbled, starting to step around him.

Jane was seized with a whimsical impulse, and Lisbon let out a gasp of surprise as he took her hand, using his other to pull her close and spin her into a quick waltz. "Jane!" she protested. "What the hell?"

"So far my morning has been all work and no play. I'm in danger of becoming a dull boy," he replied.

She burst into laughter. Encouraged, he said, "I have been doing all the work around here for no pay. I think it's time to change that. So I'm declaring this Dance with the Cook Day."

"So I have to dance for my supper?" she demanded, but she couldn't quite pull off her usual annoyed tone. "Maybe I'll just cook instead."

He grinned down at her as they twirled. That was Lisbon: she might grumble and complain, but she never missed a step. "Tired of my cooking already?"

"No," she admitted.

"And you were complaining about needing exercise yesterday." He smoothly moved them to the living room for more space.

"True."

"So your problem with this is?"

"That you didn't let me get my second cup of coffee," she retorted.

"This got your blood pumping just as well," he said.

"Good morning," Mancini said, sounding perplexed, as he came into the room.

They stopped dancing, and Jane resisted the impulse to keep hold of her hand. Lisbon would resent anything resembling a territorial move, he knew. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Be advised that you will be expected to dance as payment," Lisbon smiled, heading for the kitchen to get her refill.

Jane kept up his jovial tone. "That is the basic premise of Dance with the Cook Day," he said.

Mancini frowned and said, "Guess I'll just have coffee then."

"Really?" Jane held his arms open. "I'll let you lead."

"Stop teasing him, Jane," Lisbon scolded. "If you won't cook him breakfast, I will."

"You could always just pay his tab," Jane suggested.

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was up to. "You were just complaining about doing all the work. Sit down, both of you. Gabe, what would you like?"

Mancini was all smiles now, taking a seat at the table. "Whatever you want to fix," he said magnanimously. "I'm not picky."

Jane retrieved his tea and sat down next to Mancini, just to annoy him. He ate his cooling eggs quickly, noticing how Mancini watched Lisbon as she moved around the kitchen. She was well worth watching, struggling to keep her robe's sleeves out of the way as she attempted an omelette. Jane suspected she was overreaching, having grown up cooking for a house full of boys. Scrambled was surely a bigger part of her repertoire.

Mancini was full of praise for it, though. He even offered to dance afterward; Jane gave him grudging points for that. Lisbon smiled and even blushed a little, but in the end she said, "Can I have a rain check?"

"Sure. So, what's on the agenda for today?" Gabe smiled.

"I was up a lot last night, so I hope to get a nap in," she said. "But after that I'm all yours."

"I'll hold you to that," he promised.

Jane felt distinctly nauseated. He wondered if he could manage to nap the day away. The only thing worse than being forced to make small talk with Mancini was listening to his stilted flirting with Lisbon.

No, he reflected a moment later, he'd been wrong. Watching Mancini stick his tongue in Lisbon's mouth when she'd obviously meant only to give him a little peck on her way out of the room was far, far worse. He could tell how uncomfortable it made her, so he decided to start on the dishes to relieve her of the audience at least. When he looked up again, Mancini had a smug grin on his face.

_Enjoy it while you can,_ Jane thought. That was exactly the kind of thing Lisbon wouldn't put up with. And Mancini's territorial display was meaningless to Jane, who knew with utter certainty that he could command Lisbon's entire attention at any time, no matter what Mancini might do. A single word would do, or maybe even a gesture. Or a look. Mancini had nothing that could compete with their understanding. Jane would feel a little sorry for the man if he weren't so...irksome.

"Good thing I brought some paperwork to catch up on," Mancini remarked. "You gonna be okay out here?"

Jane said, "Oh, don't worry about me. I have plenty to keep me occupied."

They were each relieved to be rid of the other's company, but Jane was even more relieved to be left in undisputed possession of the living room. The couch was calling his name.

mmm

Jane didn't quite manage to doze off, but he came close, so he heard Mancini's voice for a few minutes before he realized he shouldn't be. Was the idiot on his phone? They'd all agreed to turn theirs off before approaching the cabin to avoid being tracked.

Quietly, he got up and moved down the hall. Yes, Mancini was definitely talking, though too quietly for Jane to make out the words. He debated the best course of action. Warn Lisbon? Go back to the couch, pretend he knew nothing, and let the game play out? He knew which one Lisbon would want him to choose.

He had just turned to head back to the couch when Mancini's door opened. "Eavesdropping?" he said snidely. "Hear anything interesting?"

"No," Jane said. "I was going to ask you to keep it down, but then you finished your call."

"Right." Mancini drew his weapon. "I'm sure you're as relieved as I am that we don't have to spend the day together after all. We're going on a little trip instead."

"To see a friend?" Jane asked, making sure to keep his voice even. This was it. His mind was racing, and he tried to slow it down so he wouldn't miss anything.

"Exactly."

"Fine. Let's go then." The important thing now was to ensure Lisbon's safety while he did this. He hoped she would sleep through their departure.

"First we have to let Teresa know we're leaving. I'm sure she'll want to say good-bye." Mancini gestured for Jane to precede him. "God, you two are sickening. Kiss the cook, dance with the cook." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why such a smart woman keeps falling for your stupid games."

Jane wasn't going to enlighten him. "Too smart for you, wasn't she?"

"What do you mean?"

"She suspected you all along."

Mancini chuckled. "She was meant to. Wake her up."

Jane hesitated, then tried the door. It was open, he realized in dismay, because he was out here. "Lisbon," he called out.

"Jane? What is it?" She was immediately awake, sitting up as he opened the door.

"Looks like I'll miss lunch," he said, trying for a light tone. "Your boyfriend and I are going to go run an errand."

She blinked, then carefully got out of bed, one hand behind her to conceal her weapon. Mancini pushed the door all the way open so she could see his gun pressed into Jane's rib cage. "What's going on, Gabe?" she asked. "Had enough of Jane already?"

"We have an appointment," he said. "Charming as you are, you're not invited. I need you to handcuff yourself to the headboard."

"Dream on," she retorted, eyes narrowed.

"Oh, don't worry. I just need to know you won't be crashing the party." Mancini shoved the gun harder into Jane, causing him to grunt a little in protest. "If you don't, I'll be forced to shoot him. I'm not allowed to kill him, unfortunately, but I can hurt him as bad as I want."

Lisbon looked at Jane, then reached into the nightstand for her handcuffs.

"Slide your gun over there," Mancini jerked his head toward the far corner of the room.

Jane could feel Lisbon's anger, frustration, and mounting fear as she obeyed all Mancini's instructions. She was clearly thinking he should have prevented this situation. But from his perspective, this was not a bad way for things to happen. She would be safe and not involved in the coming confrontation, which was how he'd always hoped things would go down.

When she was securely cuffed to one of the bars on the mission style headboard, she sat on the edge of the mattress, trying to appear calm while watching Jane for a sign of what he was going to do.

"Come on," Mancini said to him.

"You said we could say good-bye," Jane protested. This might be his last moment with Lisbon. He wanted it to be as painless a memory for her as possible.

"Fine," Mancini said. "Make it quick."

"A beautiful woman should never be rushed," Jane said pointedly, causing Mancini to go red with fury over the implied criticism.

"Jane," Lisbon said urgently as he came toward her, "don't provoke him. You need to—"

"Hush," he said tenderly, giving her an affectionate smile and laying a hand on her cheek. "I want you to know that I've loved you with everything I had left. I'm sorry it was so much less than you deserved." He reached out his other hand to run through her hair, indulging himself.

Her eyes sparkled with tears. "Jane," she whispered.

He bent down to kiss her, a gentle press of his lips against hers. She was the one who deepened it; he heard the rattle of the handcuff chain as she moved closer to him.

Even though this was their first kiss it felt like coming home again. He should have kissed her years ago, he thought. All that time he'd wasted trying to keep her at arm's length could have been so much more pleasant for them both. And it seemed he was the one Red John wanted after all, so the fears he'd used to justify keeping the distance between them were groundless.

"Come on," Mancini grumbled. "Enough making out with my girlfriend already."

They ignored his jibe, but Jane pulled back from the kiss just enough to whisper against her lips, "Don't hate me."

"I love you," she whispered back.

His smile was immediate and involuntary. He hadn't dared hope she'd say it, even though they both knew it was true. His eyes roamed over her face, fixing her expression in his memory. This might be the last moment he would ever want to cherish, and he was going to hang on to it for all he was worth. He could tell she was doing the same.

He was afraid he would choke up if he tried to say more. He'd said the important things, anyway, and he had no intention of telling her good-bye. He didn't want her to think he had no intention of coming back, because he did. Red John had to die, but Jane would do his best to survive. He wanted the life he'd glimpsed the last few days: sitting across the table from Lisbon, seeing her first thing in the morning, having her tuck him in. Dancing with her in the kitchen because he wanted to. Going to her bed in the middle of the night, but knowing he could crawl in and be welcomed into her strong arms.

"Jane," she called after him,"don't do anything stupid. We will find you. Stay alive!"

He smiled at her over his shoulder, hoping it was reassuring rather than wistful.

mmm

They drove a long way. Jane hated the way the SUV handled, and he hoped if he didn't come back, Lisbon would see that his faithful old Citroen found a good home. He also hoped it wouldn't be long before Cho or one of the others found her. Whether Mancini had been telling the truth or not, Cho wouldn't leave them up here for long without checking in somehow. She would be going mad with frustration by now.

"Pull over here," Mancini instructed.

Jane brought the vehicle to a stop at the scenic overlook. Maybe, if he was very lucky, he'd get the chance to push Mancini over the edge.

"Get out."

Jane did so, careful not to make any sudden moves or to let his hand stray toward the pocket that held his gun. "Lovely spot for a chat," he remarked.

"Yeah," Mancini said. "But don't worry, it'll be short."

"When is your friend joining us?" Jane was looking around but didn't see any evidence to suggest they weren't alone.

"In a few minutes. First, you have a choice to make."

"Oh?"

Mancini's smug smile was grating, and Jane began to think there was something happening other than what he'd guessed. "He said you'd come quietly if you thought Teresa was out of it. We had a lot of discussion about whether you were sweet on her or just using her. He was really curious if you'd recovered enough to fall for someone. It must have driven you crazy to know I was screwing her."

"No, why should it?" Jane replied calmly. "You were never a threat to me. Whatever Lisbon chose to give you, it wasn't going to be her heart. You're years too late for that." He paused, then added, "If I _thought_ she was out of it? I take it she isn't, then?"

"No. My job was to get you out of the way. Oh, don't freak out. He just wants to have a chat with her."

Jane thought he might have a stroke; he couldn't seem to get his heart rate under control. Red John was with Lisbon. And he'd left her there, helpless, practically gift-wrapped for him. He was an idiot.

"You're supposed to be so smart, but you fell for it, didn't you? He said you would, if you thought you were getting what you want. And you are, but not all of it. You have to choose."

Jane could hardly concentrate enough to listen. Every cell in his body wanted to sprint for the car and get back to the cabin _right now_. "Then tell me."

"My friend wants to retire. But he doesn't like loose ends. So he's willing to meet with you face to face, one last time. You can take your best shot at killing him. But whoever walks away, Teresa will die."

Not happening, Jane thought. "And the other choice?"

"Get back in the car and go back to her. You'll never see or hear from him again, and she will live, unless you change your mind and keep looking for him."

"So the choice is Red John or Lisbon?" Jane was incredulous.

"Exactly." Mancini grinned at him. "I have a lot of money riding on this. But just seeing the expression on your face is jackpot enough. Any questions?"

"If I choose Lisbon, what guarantee do I have that he'll leave us alone?" This had to be a trick, he thought. Red John was trying to get him to tip his hand for some reason, betray his weakness. Although surely there couldn't be much doubt left?

"All he's ever wanted was to show you the true path. But it's time for you to find it on your own. Your obsession with him has been an obstacle for you; once it's gone, he thinks you will be able to progress. You have to decide whether you will be able to do that better with or without Teresa. Frankly, I think the world will be a less nauseatingly cute place without the two of you making eyes at each other, but it's not up to me. And she is a sweet piece of ass."

Jane really wanted to shoot him, but he was afraid Mancini would shoot him in return, and then he might not be able to get to Lisbon. He suddenly realized he'd already made his choice. He was surprised giving up a decade's worth of obsession wasn't harder. Maybe he was in shock.

"So," Mancini said, "are you driving away or am I?"

"I am." Jane wondered as he strode back to the driver's door whether Mancini would shoot him in the back, but he didn't. Given what might be waiting for him, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

**Author's Note:** Okay, I know, making Mancini the mole was predictable. But it was so emotionally satisfying that I couldn't resist. Next chapter coming soon, I promise!


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist.

**Author's Note: **This was originally going to be a longer chapter, but I promised to post it soon and I hate to keep you all in suspense too long. So here's the next bit. A project blew up into big gooey bits at work so most of my creativity has gone into figuring out where to bury the bodies (joke!). I might have to take it out on a fictional character next chapter, but don't worry, it won't be anybody you like. :)

**Chapter 11**

Lisbon grimaced as the cuff pulled at her wrist. It hadn't been a bright idea to hide the burner phone under the mattress after all, but then she'd thought she'd have both hands free to retrieve it. Her phone was tucked in her suitcase across the room, completely inaccessible, so she had to make this work. She really should put tracking devices on Jane. Maybe in his shoes, since they were apparently the only ones he owned.

God. Jane. He'd gone willingly, no doubt glad he wasn't going to have to deal with her objections to whatever he ended up doing. She was terrified for and furious with him all at the same time. But right now she had to make sure he would live so she would have time to sort out her feelings. As lovely as his words had been, she didn't want them to be the last thing he ever said to her. They had so much more to say. She wanted to tease him by pretending not to remember what she'd said. She wanted to eat pie with him and this time drop the whipped cream down her dress on purpose, then make a different choice at the end of the night. She wanted to twirl around the kitchen with him before she was fully awake and laugh at the sheer absurdity of it.

Finally her fingers closed around the phone, and she pulled it out, rolling her shoulder to relieve the strain. Then she quickly typed in the code word and sent the text. Cho was three hours away at least, but when he called back to confirm, she'd have him get local officers out looking for Jane. She knew the vehicle they were in, after all.

The front door opened, and her heart leaped with hope. But her common sense kicked in before she could call out. If this was a friend, they would have knocked.

The masked man in the doorway wasn't a total shock, but her heart sank. No. She couldn't let this happen. She didn't want to die like this, and she couldn't let him do this to Jane. If he found her brutally murdered by his nemesis immediately after she finally admitted she loved him, he'd be forever convinced that he was a curse to anyone who cared about him. He'd never let himself get close to another living soul. Assuming he lived through this. Although if Red John was here, at least that meant he wasn't with Jane.

"Hello Agent Lisbon. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He turned to set her suitcase on the floor and drag the chair it had been on over so he could sit facing her.

"I wish I could say the same." She was memorizing what she could see of him, his build, his height. She tried to fix his voice in her mind too. Assuming she lived, she would be one of the only people who had knowingly met him and could give any kind of description.

"No need to be frightened, Agent. I have no intention of adding you to my oeuvre. Not yet, at least. That part will be up to Patrick."

She swallowed, trying to keep calm even though her heart was pounding. She couldn't believe she was sitting across from the monster who had butchered so many people, staring at the hands that had cut up Angela and Charlotte Jane. She had been this close to monsters of various types before, but usually she wasn't the one who was handcuffed. And she was acutely aware that this was personal in a way no other encounter had been, because it was about Jane. "If you're trying to use me as leverage, it won't work."

"How have you survived all these years with Patrick without becoming a better liar?" The odd, breathy voice carried amusement. "Of course it would work, were that my intention. Oh, he would no doubt cross his fingers behind his back, so to speak. But he would do whatever I asked to save your life, I am confident." He leaned back and crossed his legs, seemingly comfortable. She wondered if the fact that the pose reminded her of Jane was intentional.

"I don't need to lie to him," she said. "And he's never hidden the fact that killing you is his number one priority."

"Hate is a harsh mistress," he reflected. "Hard to sustain without constant feeding. And it gives nothing back. Whereas you demand very little and give him a great deal. No matter what he might say, I think if he has to choose to save only one, it will be you."

The burner phone began to ring, and Red John snatched it out of her hand, quick as a cobra. "We aren't ready for company," he said mockingly. "My dear, you haven't even dressed, much less done your hair and makeup. We have work to do."

"I didn't know we were entertaining."

"You are going to assist me in making a point to our mutual friend. But first, I will need to hypnotize you."

Lisbon laughed. "Right. Like that is ever going to happen."

"Because you have been such a loyal friend to Patrick, I am offering you a choice," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You may allow me to put you into a trance, and I will give you a series of triggers that will allow Patrick to bring you out of it after you have delivered my message. Refuse, and I will drug you to accomplish my goal. And you will join Kristina Frye in some charming care facility for the rest of your life." He leaned forward. "Do not think you can resist me. I brought my favorite knife, just in case. And I'm very much afraid once I start cutting and see the vivid blood on your beautiful pale skin, I might not be able to stop."

She shuddered at the smile she heard in his voice. "How can I possibly trust you?"

"You can't, of course. I may be lying to you, manipulating you. But I'm told you are a gambler, Teresa. Play the odds."

mmm

"Lisbon!" Jane's shout echoed off the walls of the room where he'd danced with Lisbon scant hours before. Despite the fact that Cho had spent half their phone conversation telling him not to go into the cabin alone, he ran for her room, stopping short at the closed door. The sensation of déjà vu that gripped him as he reached for the handle was enough to make him sway a little, his breath loud and unsteady, his heart squeezed so hard in the grip of dread that he wondered it was still beating.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He would just sit down here and wait for the others. Cho would think he was having an attack of common sense for once, not cowardice.

But what if she wasn't dead? She might be waiting for him. She might be in pain, or frightened, not that she'd admit either one. He had to see for himself. If the worst was true, well, he had his gun. He wouldn't have to live with it for long.

He took a deep breath that rang in his ears like a sob. _You deserve this, _he told himself sternly. _You did this. Go in there and face your punishment._

He pushed the door open roughly but made no move to step inside, letting his gaze dart around the room before it locked onto the figure on the bed. She was still and pale, but he could see the slight rise of her chest as she breathed.

She was laid out on the bed in her robe, holding a red rose, as if ready for a viewing at a funeral. Her hair was curled and brushed, and she had makeup on. It looked like she'd done it herself, except for the bright red lipstick that matched the rose. It wasn't a shade she would have chosen, he knew.

Woodenly, he stumbled over to the bed and dropped heavily into the chair beside it. Up close, he realized that she wasn't wearing her sleep jersey under the robe, but something lacy. His stomach turned at the thought of Red John's hands on her skin, but he tried to calm himself by studying her makeup and hair, so much like she normally wore that it argued she'd done it herself. But why? How had he convinced her?

He finally worked up the nerve to reach out and touch her. Her skin was blessedly warm, and her pulse under his fingers was strong, if a little rapid. That meant she wasn't just asleep, but he'd never seriously considered that anyway. Drugged? A sedative should have slowed her heart rate, not sped it up. He frowned.

"Lisbon," he said, trying to make his voice as normal as possible. "It's me. Wake up."

He thought he felt her pulse speed up, but she didn't move or speak.

_Crap._ She was in a trance. Cold dread washed down his spine as he remembered what Red John had done to Kristina. Mancini had implied Lisbon would be unharmed, but maybe he hadn't been told this part of the plan? Was this Red John's sick idea of punishment for choosing Lisbon over him, twice now?

This was almost worse than finding her dead, because there was hope. And he wouldn't be able to write her off as a casualty of her own naïveté as he'd done with Kristina. This was his fault, completely and undeniably.

His shoulders slumped as he contemplated his grim future, and he sat lost in his thoughts until he heard Cho call out. Moments later, a hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed so hard it hurt.

Grace's soft gasp was followed by Rigsby muttering, "Oh, no."

"No visible wounds," Cho noted gruffly.

"It's a trance," Jane confirmed.

"But you can get her out of it, right?" Rigsby said.

"I have to find the trigger," Jane replied. "It could be anything."

"Kristina thought she was dead," Grace remembered. "Maybe if we got a candle?"

Jane shook his head. "Kristina believed in that. Lisbon doesn't. This will be something else." He began feeling her shoulders, her arms, all the while knowing it wouldn't be that easy. Red John would have chosen something only he would think of, assuming he was meant to be able to rouse her at all.

"Weird staging," Cho remarked. "This isn't typical Red John."

"Maybe it's a message?" Rigsby guessed.

"Saying what?" Grace wondered.

Jane paused, considering. "When I first saw her, I thought it looked like a funeral."

"But it doesn't," Grace argued. "She looks alive, just asleep."

"Fairy tale?" Rigsby said. "Sleeping beauty?"

"She looks more like Snow White," Grace corrected.

"Either way," Rigsby said, "I don't see any princes around here."

"It's not the prince part that's important," Grace pointed out. "It's true love's kiss."

"Red John's a romantic?" Cho said skeptically.

"No," Jane said. He bit his lip and added, "But I am. This message, whatever it is, was meant for me."

There was a moment of frozen silence as the logical connection occurred to them all. If the situation weren't so dire, Jane thought he would have been amused by the way they all tried, and then failed, to look anywhere but at him. What wasn't amusing was Lisbon's reaction if she found out he'd kissed her in front of the team, and he didn't see any way of getting them out of the room short of setting it on fire.

"Just do it," Cho urged him. He had his arms folded and a slightly pained expression on his face. His posture clearly said, "Try anything funny and I'll kill you."

Jane had no doubt he would, and Grace and Rigsby would help. He wished he was as calm as he was trying to appear, so he could play this lightly. But the stakes were far too high, and he was as unnerved by the day's events as he'd ever been in his life. So he knew he was tipping his hand to the team as he moved to the side of the bed and bent over Lisbon, gently touching his lips to hers and lingering a beat longer than he should have.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and his heart gave a painful stutter and then started beating way too fast. "Lisbon?" he whispered.

Her eyes finally opened, and he beamed down at her. "Hey, sleeping beauty," he said softly.

She stared at the ceiling, and he realized her beautiful eyes were glassy and vacant. The pit opened in his stomach again, and he waved his hand in front of her face, then shook his head. He wanted to weep with disappointment and frustration.

"Why didn't it work?" Grace asked.

They were all quiet for a moment, and then Rigsby muttered, "Well, it's not like you could call Jane anyone's 'true' anything."

Jane ignored him, frowning. All that just to get her to open her eyes? Surely there should have been more. "Teresa," he called.

She blinked, then began speaking in an uninflected, flat voice that hardly even sounded like her. "Well done, Patrick. You've passed the first test. It appears dear Teresa's faith in you is justified. Now you must find the trigger that will fully rouse her. But please hurry. You see, I have left her fully aware, though unable to react. I am sure she is finding it unpleasant. And in case you were wondering, only you can release her."

Unpleasant? Jane thought, aghast. It was the worst possible torture he could have devised for a control freak like Lisbon.

Leaning forward again, he laid a hand along her cheek. "Lisbon," he said softly, "I'm going to find the trigger. I promise. Don't worry. Try to stay calm." He picked up her wrist again, feeling her pulse. Now he understood why it was faster than it should be; Lisbon could hear and understand what was happening. She must be screaming in her head, he thought in sympathy, rubbing his thumb along her silky skin in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"So if only you can do this," Cho said, "what does that point to?"

"Obviously it's something I have to do or say." Jane frowned in thought.

Cho's phone rang, and he answered it. After a series of monosyllabic answers, he said, "Okay," and ended the call. Then he looked at Jane. "After you told me where you left Mancini, I sent some locals up there. No trace of him."

"I didn't think there would be."

"You should have turned your phone on sooner," Cho reproved. "We might have caught him."

"I had a lot on my mind," Jane retorted. "Besides, he told me I had to choose. He said if I started looking for Red John again, Lisbon would die. I don't care about catching Mancini if it means Lisbon will be safe."

He couldn't really blame them for the skeptical looks on their faces. He knew himself well enough to realize how difficult he would find it to stick to his choice, to resist the temptation to wriggle out of the conditions of the dilemma Red John had set up. He would, sooner or later, come up with a plan to outsmart the killer so he could have his revenge and Lisbon too. He hoped he would either resist the temptation to try or would truly outsmart his nemesis. Of course, unless he managed to ferret out all Red John's friends, Lisbon would still be in danger.

No. He had to stick to the choice he'd made. He could not have Lisbon's blood on his hands.

And all of a sudden, he knew what the trigger was. At least, he knew the general category. Looking down at Lisbon, he said, "I give up."

Lisbon's eyes came alive, but she still didn't move. She blinked furiously, and a tear escaped down one cheek.

"Shh," he soothed. "It's okay. I got this." He looked down at her eyes, wide with fear and frustration and hope, and told himself he could do this. No matter if the words choked him; he could do this. He had to do this. He could not leave Lisbon imprisoned in her own body. He had to get her back, and he hoped he could let that be enough to keep him from endangering her again.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was pretty sure that for this to work, Lisbon had to believe him, without doubt. And she would find these words pretty hard to believe, coming from him.

He swallowed, but his voice still came out dry and raspy as he said, "Red John wins. He beat me. He's outsmarted me. It's over."

Lisbon drew in a huge, gasping breath and let it out in a cry of distress. "Jane!"

He opened his arms just as she lifted herself up and flung herself at him, panting as if she'd sprinted up a steep hill. Her arms went around him and squeezed hard as he wrapped her up in his embrace, and they sat there for a few minutes, just grateful to be able to do so. She was trembling, and he splayed one hand across her back and rubbed gently, murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear.

His concern grew when she made no attempt to move away from him. Lisbon rarely needed recovery time, at least that she let anybody see. He wanted to see her face, but it was buried in the crook of his neck, so he used his free hand to encourage her to lift her head. She merely made a little protesting noise and burrowed closer to him.

"Hey," he said softly, "you okay?"

She gave a vague, "Mm hm," and then, after a few moments, pulled back just enough to focus on him. "You came back," she said, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

"Of course I—" He didn't get to finish his sentence because Lisbon took possession of his mouth, kissing him fiercely. It was by far the nicest way she'd ever found to shut him up, he decided before giving his brain over to pure sensation.

He heard a noise like crinkling paper and realized that money was changing hands nearby. He hoped Lisbon didn't choose that moment to open her eyes, or this room would become a crime scene after all.

_I should stop this,_ he thought without much conviction. After her ordeal she needed to regain her sense of control, and if she chose to do that by kissing him until they both passed out from lack of air, he was on board with that.

It was only when her fingers began plucking at his vest buttons that he realized this was about to get dangerously out of hand. He was working pretty hard to keep himself under control as it was, and they had an audience. Which she hadn't noticed, he realized.

He couldn't help the little groan that escaped him as he pulled away from her, holding her shoulders to keep her in place. "You all right?" he asked.

Her eyes darkened even further at the husky tone he'd inadvertently used. "Oh yeah," she breathed.

Jane glanced over his shoulder, hoping for reinforcements. Cho saved the day by saying, "You need an ambulance, boss?"

Lisbon jerked back in alarm, staring at her team with a shocked expression. "How did you guys get here?" Before anyone could reply, she looked down at herself and said, "Who changed my clothes?"

"Lisbon, try to calm down," Jane said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I—" She broke off, frowning. Then she looked at Jane and demanded, "What the hell is going on?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Title**: In the Cards

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist.

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry for the delay in updating! Real Life Holiday Syndrome descended with a vengeance. Hosting Christmas is hard work! Thanks for hanging in there with me and for all your encouraging reviews! This is a short chapter but it should give you a clue as to where this is going. Unless my muse starts throwing curve balls again...

**Chapter 12**

Lisbon fought down rising panic, her mind racing, trying to fill in the gap in her memory. What she was seeing made no sense to her. The team should be hours away; how had they known to come? And why was Jane's mouth smeared with bright red lipstick? He looked like he'd stopped to make out with a hooker on his way back. How had he gotten away from Mancini, anyhow? "Where's Mancini?" she asked, grabbing onto a simple question.

Jane looked—distressed was the only word she could come up with. That didn't make much sense either. "I don't know," he said. "Miles away from where I left him, though, certainly." He paused, then asked, "Lisbon, do you remember why we left?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Because instead of alerting me that he was about to make a move, you let him catch me sleeping, literally! All so you could get rid of me for your big showdown!" But then what was he doing here, she wondered. He couldn't have killed Red John so quickly. And he didn't look like he'd been in a struggle of any kind.

Jane's expression cleared a little. "Good," he said.

"There was nothing good about it!" She wanted to hit him, but she realized she had a white-knuckled grip on his biceps. She was probably hurting him. She should let go. Why wasn't she letting go?

"Lisbon, that was almost four hours ago," Jane said.

The way he kept saying her name was beginning to annoy her. It was like he thought she might not be in her right mind.

Wait. _Four hours?_

She felt her jaw drop. "Why can't I remember? As far as I know, you just left a minute ago!" But that did explain how the team was here and why he was back. He hadn't abandoned his plan and rushed back to her; he'd had his meeting and somehow survived. "What happened? Did you kill Red John?"

She suddenly became aware that her head hurt. Blinking, she tried to focus on what Jane was saying.

"It was a feint. He didn't want me; he wanted to talk to you, Mancini said. But he did more than talk to you, by the look of it." Jane's hands wrapped around her elbows, his thumbs rubbing gently as if to soothe her. She wished he'd rub her temples instead and relieve her headache, but she still hadn't been able to let go of him, so he couldn't reach her face. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"You left," she said slowly. "I had a hard time getting the burner phone out from under the mattress, but I did. I texted Cho." She looked over at Cho, and he nodded at her. His steady presence seemed to help her head clear. "And then—" Her head throbbed, and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

"Lisbon, don't think about it. Think about something else, quickly," Jane urged her. "And breathe, for God's sake."

She sucked in a lungful of air and tried to follow his other instructions, but her head was splitting, and she couldn't think at all. Her hands finally released Jane and went to her head, rubbing against the agony. His hands covered hers, and after a moment he managed to pry one away from her head, his fingers applying pressure between her thumb and forefinger. It hurt, but her headache began to recede.

"Lisbon," he kept saying, his soothing tone carrying an underlying note of worry. "Listen to me. Listen to my voice, and breathe. In…and out."

She blinked at him and obeyed, her eyes watering in relief as the blinding pain released her. He still had hold of her hand, and he gave it a comforting squeeze, smiling at her. But when she looked in his eyes she saw nothing to smile about. "What's wrong with me?"

"It's okay," he said gently. "Question time is over. There's nothing you need to remember."

His fingers moved along her hand, massaging until she relaxed. He really could do amazing things with his hands, she thought. One day soon she wanted to find out what he'd do if she gave him free rein to touch her. She shivered a little, then brought herself up short. She should not be thinking thoughts like those while sitting on the same bed as Jane, wearing only a lace teddy and a robe. She felt her face heat up and knew she was turning beet red.

"Grace is going to stay with you while you change," Jane said, moving to stand.

She reflexively gripped his hand hard, then forced herself to let go. To cover her embarrassment, she snapped, "And who put you in charge?"

Jane grinned at her. "I have absolutely no objection to you staying just as you are," he said, glancing down at where her robe had slid away from her legs when she'd sat up. "But I think you'll feel better once you've changed."

Lisbon hastily pulled the robe back over herself. Cho and Rigsby were already headed for the door, but Jane paused to give her a knowing smirk before following them.

mmm

Jane pulled the door closed behind him and turned to face his friends, not bothering to hide his concern. No breezy facade was going to fool them at this point, he knew.

"What did he do to her?" Cho demanded.

"I'm not sure yet. But this isn't over. He planted more in her head than just that little fairy tale scene," Jane said. "For one thing, trying to remember him causes her pain."

"So she can't give us any clues," Rigsby guessed.

"Yes. And to make sure I don't change my mind," Jane said. "I'm betting any mention of him gives her a headache. If she keeps being exposed to it, the pain may get worse. It could eventually lead to serious health issues if we push it."

"Can you do something about it?" Cho asked.

Jane shook his head. "Trying to undo what he's done would make things worse. He would have planted something to prevent me being able to do that. But there's something you can do."

"Name it," Cho said immediately.

"The Red John case has to be turned over to the FBI. All the files, everything. She can't ever come into contact with any of it again. You should do it while she's on leave."

"She's taking leave?" Rigsby sounded skeptical.

Jane grimaced. "She's had a serial killer messing with her mind. I think a few days off are in order, so we can try to figure out what he's done. She might be a danger to herself or others right now."

Cho said, "You're really doing this? Just letting it all go, just like that?"

"It's him or Lisbon," Jane snapped. "Unless that changes, yes, I'm letting it all go. I owe her that."

"Yeah, you do," Cho said. "But how are you going to get her to agree?"

"I don't have to. She won't even ask about it. Her mind will try to protect her."

They were still unconvinced. Rigsby said, "This is a con, right? We just pretend to give up until we figure this out. We keep a copy of the files for later, somewhere she won't find them."

Jane shook his head. "No. This has to be for real. He has friends everywhere, and he'll kill her if he thinks I'm not serious about this. Besides, he'll have programmed her to make sure I'm not sneaking around."

"How do you know?" Rigsby asked.

Jane grimaced. "It's what I'd do."

"Jane?" Grace's voice sounded urgent, and Jane pushed the door open again immediately. Lisbon was dressed in dark jeans and one of his favorite dark green blouses, sitting on the chair and shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what's wrong with her."

Jane knelt by the chair, reaching for Lisbon's hands, which were twisted in a painfully tight grip. There was a mighty struggle going on in her head, he saw. Whatever Red John was trying, it wasn't something Lisbon was okay with. "Lisbon, it's all right. I know this isn't under your control. Whatever you need to do, nobody will blame you."

"I can't," she gritted out.

"You'll feel better once you do," he told her.

Whatever it was she was trying to stop herself from doing, his presence didn't seem to help. He was just wondering if he should move away when she spoke, sounding as if the words had been torn from her throat. "Hold me."

"Okay," he said immediately. "Lisbon, it's okay. This is a post hypnotic suggestion, not a character flaw." He carefully put his arms around her in a nice, platonic, suitable-for-the-observation-of-coworkers hug. She shuddered and flung her arms around him in a desperate, rib-cracking embrace.

"It's okay," he kept saying, although he knew neither of them believed it. He just hoped Red John didn't know her well enough to do something truly diabolical, like make her afraid to let him out of her sight. She'd go crazy if she couldn't get a break from him now and then.

He became aware that her left hand was moving, and he tried to pull away enough to move his own arm, but her grip was implacable. "Get my gun!" he cried in sudden alarm.

Grace, Cho, and Rigsby jumped forward, and one of them (Jane couldn't see who) pulled the gun out of his pocket. They all stepped back, and Grace went to pick up Lisbon's own weapon, sitting on the floor nearby.

"I wasn't going to shoot you, idiot," Lisbon muttered in his ear.

He chuckled, hating the nervous edge he could hear in it. "Not to kill," he agreed. "That's not in your character. But admit it, there've been plenty of times you've wanted to maim me."

"I have better plans for you," she retorted.

Jane swore he could feel his heart actually stutter, then sink. Lisbon making suggestive remarks in front of the others was definitely not normal. Therefore, it had to come from whatever Red John had done. And that was worrying in the extreme. But it made a certain bleak sense: whatever it was hadn't been aimed at her as herself, but as someone Jane cared about. The relationship was the real target. Red John wouldn't have been able to turn Lisbon against Jane or make her forget him in the limited time available, so what if he'd gone the other way, playing on her feelings and pushing her into things she wanted but wasn't really ready for? That would lead to disaster for them both. And it would be almost impossible for Jane to fight, because those were things he wanted too.

He needed to be careful. He needed to help her true self get the upper hand in her internal struggle. "What do you want to do next?" he asked.

She gave a sexy little chuckle that ended in a choke, and he felt her tense up again. "Okay, forget I asked," he said. "Let's get you home." She'd feel better on her turf, he knew.

She nodded against his shoulder. "I'm all packed," she said, sounding a little more like herself.

mmm

They decided to leave Mancini's vehicle for the FBI to deal with, so they piled into the SUV Cho had driven up. Rigsby called shotgun, so Jane found himself in the backseat with Lisbon pressed up against him, closer than strictly necessary. It wasn't like Grace took up that much space, after all. While he had to admit he was enjoying the contact, it was another sign that something was very wrong with her.

He hoped desperately that the point of this was simply to keep him focused on Lisbon and away from any temptation to go after Red John. But that seemed too simple. Though it was certainly true that he would have a hard time focusing on anything else while Lisbon was in trouble.

He was looking out the window, thinking hard, but he noticed that Lisbon was leaning more heavily against him, her head tucked against his shoulder. She was either exhausted or in pain, or both. She was just stubborn enough to torture herself by trying to remember Red John despite being told not to.

He glanced at Grace, who was looking at Lisbon in concern but met his eyes when he turned his head. His expression must not have reassured her, because she turned away after a moment to look out her window. Jane took the opportunity to slide his arm around Lisbon and settle her more comfortably. While he didn't think anyone in the car remained in any doubt about his feelings, he didn't want to expose Lisbon to any more embarrassment than was unavoidable.

Unfortunately she didn't seem to share that goal at the moment. At first he was delighted when she slid her arm around him, but then her hand began to wander. He grabbed it before she could get past his belt and tucked it into his own, hoping a little hand holding would satisfy her.

He argued with himself for a few minutes, debating the reasons behind her behavior. After all, she had to be exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She'd been up most of the night and had only a short nap this morning. Then she'd found herself handcuffed to her bed while her would-be boyfriend held a gun to him, knowing all the while that Jane could have prevented the situation but hadn't. She'd admitted she loved him thinking it might be her last chance, and then she'd had to deal with meeting Red John while she was unable to defend herself. He didn't know how the serial killer had managed to get her to cooperate, but it couldn't have been easy for her. Then she'd lost four hours of her memory.

Really, it would be more surprising if she hadn't become clingy and emotional. It made perfect sense that she didn't want him out of her sight. Even on a normal day, she preferred to know where he was at all times.

And maybe the fact that she couldn't keep her hands off him was just some expression of her unconscious desires? He tried to tell himself that her exhaustion and emotional state accounted for her lowered inhibitions, but he'd seen Lisbon in some pretty intense situations. She got more locked down when the stakes were high, not less.

He didn't have long to decide how he was going to handle this, because there was no way she was letting him leave once they got to her apartment, even if he wanted to. And once they were alone, there would be no excuses left.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate! Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts, because they really do inspire me. I can hardly believe what started out as a rambling episode tag is still holding people's interest. A warning though: I think my muse had too much eggnog over the holiday. That, or Red John got to her too. But at least she was more generous with the word count this time out!

**Chapter 13**

"I could get you some groceries," Grace offered after looking around Lisbon's kitchen. "I mean, you didn't know how long you would be gone, so it makes sense that you didn't buy much food before you left."

Jane smirked a little at the assumption that Lisbon ever bought much food, but he was heartened by her response. "Thanks, Grace. But I'm not sick. I can go to the store after work."

Cho, Rigsby, and Grace all looked at Jane, who felt a surge of exasperation. Was he the only one who could get anything done around here? Apparently so. He met Lisbon's gaze and said firmly, "No work for you. You need observation by an expert."

"Oh, for God's sake," Lisbon snapped. "I've already been cooped up with you for days. There's no reason I can't go to work."

"You've had a serial killer messing with your mind," Jane replied. "Take a day off. You must have enough accumulated leave to last you until early retirement at this point."

"Ha, ha. You don't get to decide if I'm fit for work, Jane."

Her combative tone was normal, but the fact that she was wrinkling his suit sleeve in a death grip wasn't. Cho noticed too, folding his arms. "Boss, you aren't acting like yourself. Take a day off, get some rest. If you get sick of Jane, one of us will take him off your hands. If we get a case we can't handle, we'll call."

Lisbon reluctantly agreed and managed to let go of him long enough to see the others to the door, exchanging promises about resting and calling her if they needed her, none of which he judged sincere. The minute the door closed, she was drawn back to him as if connected by an elastic band. She managed to keep from touching him, but her face showed him the strain it cost her. "What did he do to me?" she demanded.

_Frightened you_, he thought. But he knew better than to say it. "I can't know for sure," he replied with a calm he didn't feel. "But based on your behavior, I'd guess he planted a suggestion that you keep a close eye on me."

She rolled her eyes. "As if I don't normally."

He actually thought the suggestion had something to do with only feeling calm when touching him, but he knew she wouldn't accept that. The less he pointed out her unusual behaviors, the more secure she'd feel. He'd be able to spot any truly suspicious behavior easier that way. If she started second-guessing herself, she'd end up a neurotic mess and he'd never get things sorted out.

He waved a hand in front of her face. "You're not still under hypnosis," he assured her. But of course, Red John couldn't go around hypnotizing all his friends all the time. He had other ways of messing with minds, and he was clever enough, and had been observing him and Lisbon long enough, to have some good ideas about how to alter her thinking.

"Then why do I feel like this?" There was an edge of despair in her voice that sliced right through him.

"It's been a hard day," he began, which made her glare at him for stating the obvious. "I think you just need to decompress a little. Try to relax." He reached for her hands, and some of the tension melted out of her as she quickly twined her fingers around his. He kept his voice soft as he added, "I'm going to help you through this, Lisbon. Tell me what's worrying you, and we'll work through it."

He was almost, but not quite, pleased to see her expression turn mulish at the suggestion that she talk about what she was feeling. "I'm fine. Well, except that now we know Mancini really was one of Red John's friends. I bet we won't see him again." She winced as her head began to hurt.

"Fine with me," Jane said, and meant it. "I told you he wasn't good enough for you."

"No, you didn't."

"Well, maybe not in words," he admitted. "Stop thinking about him, Lisbon. It's not worth giving yourself a headache."

"Says the man who's spent years thinking of nothing else," she grumbled. "I know you think he did something terrible to me, Jane. Otherwise you'd be wanting to hypnotize me yourself to find out what I remember about him."

She had a point, but only because she didn't know about the choice Jane had made only hours ago. And she probably wouldn't believe him if he told her. He was pretty sure the others were skeptical as well, and he couldn't blame them. He had no idea how he was going to hold to his resolution if Red John struck again. He only knew he had to. "I have, from time to time, thought about other things. And other people. And right now I'm only thinking about you."

She looked at him, torn between hope and suspicion. "Why?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Why am I thinking about you when I spent an eternity of two hours today thinking you might be dead? And that this time nobody would try to tell me it wasn't completely and undeniably my fault? Lisbon." He swallowed, pushing away the images that had tortured him until he saw her again, alive and seemingly untouched. "I told you once that I'm always going to save you. That wasn't a promise to you so much as it was to myself. Because this life means nothing to me without you in it. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do to keep you with me as long as I thought there was the merest inkling of a chance you wanted to be. Nothing."

He paused to compose himself after the rush of emotion that had taken them both by surprise. Lisbon frowned. "I've been worried about what he did to me, but obviously I need to be worried about what he did to you, too. What happened, Jane?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you," he replied.

"Tell me anyway," she demanded, in her no-nonsense tone. Her grip on his hands tightened painfully.

He hesitated, wondering if there was a halfway version she'd believe.

"The truth," she insisted.

"He told me I had to choose, you or him. But in the end there really was no choice." He watched her closely to see if he'd been vague enough to avoid the pain response.

Lisbon snatched her hands out of his and clutched at his jacket lapels, drawing his face close to hers and snarling, "Patrick Jane, you tell me the entire and unvarnished truth this instant or I swear to God I will beat it out of you!"

Well, that sounded normal at least, he thought. And her posture indicated she would begin by kneeing him in the balls.

So for once in his life, he did the prudent thing.

mmm

Lisbon dropped to the couch, aghast. She didn't know what part of Jane's story she was most embarrassed about, but if she ever got near Red John she would kill him with her bare hands. A helpless fairy tale princess? Casting Jane as her rescuer? And all in front of her team, who needed to be able to respect her!

But she was probably never getting near Red John, because he'd made Jane promise to give up, and he'd done it. God. The man had turned his back on his one overriding goal, the one reason he'd found for living after losing his family, because she'd been threatened.

It was a toss up as to who was more surprised when she burst into tears. Jane recovered first, moving to sit beside her and slide an arm around her shoulders. He was speaking, but she couldn't make out his words over her sobbing, and after a minute he drew her into a hug and fell silent.

She needed to get herself under control. A few deep breaths helped, and she could feel herself calm down as she let herself notice how warm and comfortable she was wrapped up in Jane's arms, his heartbeat under her palm and his breath stirring the hair on top of her head. She'd been so frightened she might never see him again. She might never have heard his voice or caught a whiff of his spicy cologne again, never seen his grin or the way he looked at her once in a while like she was the most precious thing in the world. She didn't know how she would bear it.

Apparently she wasn't the only one who thought that way. She'd known for years that he wouldn't sacrifice her if he could help it, but she would never have believed he would give up his quest for vengeance for anything or anyone. Perhaps if he'd been given time to think, he wouldn't have, she realized. And when things settled back down and he had nothing to look forward to but cases he had no personal interest in, he might change his mind, or regret his decision. He might even resent her.

Whatever happened, their lives would never be the same. She drew in a watery breath and swallowed hard, pushing down the anxiety she felt at the thought.

Jane murmured, "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

She let out a long sigh. "I can't believe you did that. I would never have asked you to."

"Lisbon, you're being absurd." He sounded amused and exasperated at the same time. "You've been telling me to move on with my life since the day we met. Now I am. What is there to be sad about?"

"It can't be that easy, Jane." She lifted her head to look at him. "You don't just shrug and walk away from an obsession."

"It's something I've been thinking about for a while now," he said. "Since the belladonna. Part of me has wanted to stop for years, I think. But I couldn't, because I'd promised myself everything would be better after I got Red John."

She winced against the sudden pain the name produced, and Jane pressed a kiss to her hair in apology. "I just needed a good reason," he murmured.

She knew he had no idea how stressful she found the idea of being his reason. She didn't know how to even begin explaining it, either.

"Relax," Jane whispered in her ear. "I know you, Lisbon. I don't expect you to fall into my arms in gratitude and try to give me a new reason for living. No commitment required."

That should have made her feel better, but it didn't. "You say that," she said, "but you've also said this life means nothing to you without me. That sounds like you expect a certain level of commitment."

He sighed. "No more than you've already given me, Lisbon. And I don't need you to do or say anything to reassure me. All right? You already said you love me. That's enough."

She couldn't resist looking up and frowning in what she hoped was a perplexed way. "Wait. I did what?"

Jane's stunned look lasted only long enough for him to blink, but it was worth it. He smiled tightly at her. "Okay, I deserved that. And I'm glad you're feeling calm enough to tease me."

She ducked her head, a little embarrassed. It suddenly seemed petty to tease him when he'd made such a huge sacrifice for her sake. And while he was holding her, trying to make her feel better about it, because she was having a selfish reaction and not thinking about what he was going through.

"No, you didn't," she said. "I'm sorry." She laid her head back on his shoulder and patted him lightly with the hand over his heart.

"It's all right," he said. "You can be as snarky as you want as long as you snuggle with me."

She knew she should sit up, but she was just so comfortable. His arms tightened around her slightly as he read her thought, then relaxed as he realized she wasn't going to follow through on it. "Don't get used to it," she muttered.

"I'd very much like to," he replied softly. "Really, Lisbon, where's the harm? I'm not suggesting that we start cuddling at crime scenes, but in private, on our own time, why can't we do what we want?"

She struggled with a response, unable to find a better reason than, "I'm your boss."

He chuckled. "It won't surprise you to learn that I don't think of you that way. And I've already said I don't expect us to behave differently at work. Anyway, the team won't say anything, since they already got an eyeful today."

She let out a quiet groan at the thought.

"I tried my best to behave, my dear, but your sneaky little fingers made it very difficult."

She fisted her hand and gave him a reproving thump on the chest, but she had no good retort. She remembered needing to touch him, but she hadn't meant it to be sexual. Had she? She'd certainly given the idea some thought since that night in the diner. And she had no doubt he knew that. Her heart sped up as she considered it.

"Slow down," he chuckled warmly in her ear. "You are far too tired for that. You need to sleep at least six hours and eat a good meal."

"You think you're too much for me to handle?" she challenged him.

"It's more that my ego would never recover if you fell asleep while I was doing my best to transport you to a new level of consciousness," he replied.

"Why Jane, I've never known you to suffer from self-doubt before," she said in mock concern. "Maybe you're the one who's not ready."

"I admit, I'd like to be absolutely positive beforehand that there will only be two of us in your bed," he replied soberly.

Her mouth went suddenly dry. She'd been so relaxed that she'd almost forgotten how they'd come to be sitting together (she refused to think _cuddling_) on her couch. "You do think he did something to me," she accused.

"I think it's likely. He would have wanted some assurance that I wouldn't change my mind. I'm thinking he took your sense of responsibility for me and played on it, so you'd be anxious if I was out of your sight. Since that was already present, it would be easy to exaggerate it."

"But that's not all," she prompted, then swallowed hard and gathered her courage. "The...the way I keep... I feel better when I'm touching you. That's new."

He moved one hand up and began playing with her hair. "Is it? Because I've always felt better when I'm touching you."

The way his fingers moved against her scalp was so soothing, it made her close her eyes and relax against him again. He added, "I think that was always there as well. Perhaps he just lowered your inhibitions a bit." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Admit it. You've wanted me for a long time. You just didn't want anyone to know it, even yourself."

"You just keep telling yourself that," she retorted. But she knew it was true. Her lonely free hours while he was in Vegas had given her plenty of time to ponder what their relationship had meant to her and what she had wanted from it. But all her resolutions about what she'd do differently if only he would come back had withered in his actual presence. They'd reverted to their old patterns, and it was only sometimes when she looked at him that she remembered the sheer _want_ she'd had to admit, if only to herself.

All this time, she'd been certain that what she felt was unrequited, at least in any practical sense. Jane had other priorities, and he denied himself all but the simplest pleasures, so she reasoned that even if he did want her, he'd never do anything about it. And usually she felt that was for the best, because if he ever set out to seduce her, she had no doubt he'd succeed. He'd come very close at the diner, but she'd panicked and turned to Mancini instead, because there was no chance he was going to shatter her heart like Jane had—and could again at any time.

That was why even in the haze of the moment, she hadn't let herself think it could be more than just a night together, a chance to put her curiosity to rest. But of course that was never going to be all it was. They were too much a part of each other's lives, and there were too many feelings involved, for this to be casual.

And now... Now he needed something to hold on to, something to center him while he tried to build a life that wasn't focused on a single goal. She didn't know if she could be that for him, but she wanted to try.

"Before you get too attached to the script you're writing in your head," Jane said, "let me tell you how the rest of the day is going to go. I'm going to order an early dinner, and then you're going to get some sleep. In the morning I'll cook you breakfast, and we'll see how you're doing."

"You'd better add grocery shopping to your agenda if you're planning to cook breakfast," she said. His plan sounded too enticing to argue with otherwise. Then she drew in a sharp breath and clutched at his shoulder. "You won't leave while I'm asleep, will you? We can go to the store together. We can go right now." She started to sit up, but he wouldn't let go of her.

"I won't leave while you're asleep," he promised. "In fact, I'll be surprised if you can actually fall asleep without hanging on to me to be sure I don't."

"That's what you're talking about when you say we'll see how I'm doing," she realized. She couldn't go back to work if she was going to cling to Jane the whole time. The rumor mill would have a field day, and she could just see them trying to conduct interviews or interrogations while she snuggled up to him and tucked her hand into his pocket. No, she had to stay away from work, and preferably out of public places altogether, until she got herself back under control.

He nodded. "Is there a market nearby that delivers?"

"How the hell would I know?" Honestly, he had to know she wasn't the kind of person who would pay someone to do something she was perfectly capable of doing herself.

"I'll find out. Where are your yellow pages?"

For a second she thought he was joking, then realized he was serious. "I have a better idea."

mmm

A quick internet search revealed that a nearby upscale market offered delivery for what Lisbon thought was a ridiculous fee, considering their overpriced selection. Jane waved away her objections, however, and happily filled his virtual shopping cart. She was definitely going to have to pull out her fat jeans if she let him keep feeding her, she thought.

The delicious quiche he produced for dinner a few hours later was perfect for sending her into a food coma, and she couldn't help yawning even as she insisted on cleaning up. "It's only fair, since you cooked. Besides, you'll load the dishwasher wrong."

"How do you know?" he smiled. "No, let me guess. Because you're the only one who knows how to do it right."

"Right." She shooed him out of the kitchen, keeping her mind on her task and trying to ignore the anxiety gnawing at the edge of her mind. She was curious to see how long she could last. What would be the minimum acceptable timeframe before she could go back to work? Half an hour? An hour? It depended on what they were doing, she supposed. If they were in the field, she could bump up against him while they walked or stood beside each other. That wouldn't be weird; it happened all the time, completely unintentionally. Or...was it? Maybe subconsciously, she did it on purpose, or he did? Or it could even be intentional on Jane's part. He'd said he felt better touching her.

If they were stuck in the office, though, it would be harder. He could prop himself on the corner of her desk, or she could sit beside him on the couch, but not for too long.

She realized her hands were shaking and quickly set the glass she was holding on the counter. She could do this, she told herself firmly. Jane was just in her living room—she could hear him puttering around, no doubt memorizing any changes since his last visit. Then she heard the television come on.

_See?_ she scolded herself. _He's fine. He's right there. You could take four steps and see him. Calm down._

What in the world had Red John done to her? She wasn't going to let him turn her into the type of clingy female she despised. She wasn't. She gritted her teeth against the impulse to call out to Jane, holding onto the counter to steady herself. She could do this. She could make it half an hour without seeing him or touching him. Thirty minutes was nothing. She'd already held out for...

Five minutes? Her watch had to be slow. And the microwave clock...that could be wrong too. Somehow. It had to be at least ten! At this rate she wasn't even going to be able to shower without him. Oh...that was a dangerous thought. Very dangerous. For all his talk about wanting to be sure her mind was completely her own before having sex, she was sure she could melt his resolve once they were both naked and wet. God, her knees were weakening just thinking about it.

What was she doing? She shouldn't be thinking up ways to seduce Jane. For one thing, she was his boss. And his friend. And his worst enemy had messed with her head. What if this compulsion was a plot, and she'd been programmed to do something terrible once he was off his guard and vulnerable? She could be an unwitting black widow. God, what if she woke up the morning after and found him dead? How would she live with herself?

She tasted blood and realized she'd bitten her lower lip open. Her teeth were chattering, and she was shaking so hard she was surprised she was still standing.

_No. This is not who I am_, she thought fiercely. _I will stand on my own two feet just like I always have. I will not cry for Jane to come hold me like a frightened child. I don't need him to save me. I don't need anybody to save me._

Had it been ten minutes yet? Her eyes were too watery to read the microwave clock, and she couldn't dislodge her grip on the counter's edge to look at her watch. Would she actually pass out if she kept this up? Was it possible this could harm her? She wasn't sure she could speak anymore.

"Lisbon?" Jane called from the next room. She sucked in a deep breath but didn't reply, and a moment later his arms were closing around her from behind. "Breathe, Lisbon. Close your eyes and listen to your heart slowing back to normal. Breathe in...and out...and you'll be okay. You just have to wait for this to pass. You're safe, and I'm right here."

She managed to calm down enough to speak again. "How did you know?"

"It was too quiet in here. I got worried," he replied.

The thought that she wasn't the only one who worried when they were separated was comforting, and she relaxed against him, releasing her grip on the countertop and wincing at her sore fingers. "How long?" she asked.

"How long what?" he murmured.

"How long was I in here?"

"Not quite ten minutes," he replied. "So that's what this was? You were seeing how long you could go?"

"Yeah," she sighed in disappointment. "I have to work on this. I want to go back to work, but I can't do that until I'm sure I'm not going to end up raiding the men's room because you're taking too long."

He tried to stifle his chuckle at the thought and ended up giving an inelegant snort.

"It's not funny," she muttered.

"Depending on who else was in there, it could be."

She let out a huff, then swallowed. "Every time I get anxious, I start thinking about sex. Did he do that? I never did it before."

"Possibly," he said. "You get anxious, you want to touch me to make sure I'm there with you, and your subconscious helpfully directs your thoughts into an activity that would lead to prolonged touching and would also be an incentive for me to stick around. Since you'd be the one initiating it, it would also help you feel in control." He paused, then mused, "Clever, really. If you weren't quite so stubborn, we both might even have believed it was your own idea."

"So do you..." She swallowed again. "Do you think it would help? Maybe the compulsion is just about the first time and he figured we'd take it from there?"

Jane was quiet for a long time. Then he sighed. "Perhaps. But I don't want our first night together to be about therapy."

"Me either," she agreed. Then she took a deep breath and said, "How does all this work? Doesn't a trigger have to be something he did? When I woke up I didn't feel like I'd had sex, but—"

"No, no," he said, tightening his embrace. "You aren't hypnotized anymore, Lisbon. What's happening now is something he convinced your mind to create for itself. He probably talked to you about how I abandoned you once and would do it again if it gave me a chance to find him. You were under, so you were suggestible. Because I don't think for a minute that you came up with the idea that you could hold me with sex. You're smart enough to know better."

_But I could hold you with a child._ The thought popped into her mind of its own accord, to her horror. It all made terrible sense now. She wanted to have sex with him so she could get pregnant. Or at least her subconscious did, to fulfill the need Red John had put in her head. Or found and exaggerated. Or whatever the hell he'd done.

She opened her mouth to warn Jane, but no sound came out. Oh, God. No. No, no, no. She was not going to let this happen. Panic seized her.

"Ssh," Jane said, beginning to sway them both back and forth gently. "You just figured it out, didn't you? Don't worry."

He'd gotten there before her. She'd never been so grateful for his quick mind. She slumped against him in relief and asked, "How do we fix this? Will it just go away if I hold out long enough?"

"That depends," he said.

"On what?"

He hesitated before answering, "On how much your subconscious wants it." He dropped a kiss into her hair and released her. "Come on. You need sleep. Things will seem more manageable in the morning."

She turned to face him, knowing her distress was written all over her face. He smiled gently. "And don't worry. Now that we know what we're up against, we can start figuring out what to do about it."

"And you won't let me do anything I'll regret?" She tried not to sound plaintive, but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

He didn't quite keep the smartass grin off his face. "Yes, Lisbon. For once, I will resist temptation, no matter how strong. I promise."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **You guys rock—I was really nervous about that last chapter but not a single one of you told me I was a deluded idiot. I definitely count joining this community as one of the best things I did this year. Happy New Year to you all, and may it be filled with fun reading and writing!

**Chapter 14**

It felt strange crawling into bed with a man for sleep rather than sex. But Jane acted like this was a normal occurrence, even when she found that spooning wasn't relaxing enough and turned to wrap herself around him.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he whispered. "Just relax."

"I can't shut my mind off," she whispered back.

"I can help with that," he responded, sliding his fingers into her hair and pulling her face gently toward his. Then he gave her a series of sweet, closed-mouth kisses that were unlike any she'd ever received. They weren't meant to lead anywhere or evoke anything, but simply to express affection. It made her feel treasured, cherished. She wondered if this was something people who were together a long time did. She wondered if he'd kissed his wife this way.

"Relax," he murmured. "Think about something peaceful."

Peaceful? Only Jane would tell her to ignore the fact that a serial killer had planted a ridiculous idea in her head that could permanently screw up both their lives. Unless he had a different take on it. She'd asked him how he felt about sleeping together, but she had no idea what he was envisioning for their future. Red John knew him almost as well as she did—maybe he was handing Jane what he wanted. A new family would be a pretty big distraction, as well as a powerful incentive to behave.

There seemed to be things she couldn't bring herself to say to him, though. "Tell me what you're thinking," she said, hoping he'd read between the lines.

"I'm thinking about how to get you to fall asleep without applying the obvious remedy," he said, sounding a little exasperated. Then he sighed and said in a softer voice, "And I'm thinking I should be ashamed of how happy I am to be here with you, whatever the reason."

"Promise me something," she began tentatively.

"Tell me," he prompted when she didn't continue.

"Promise me you won't play me about any of this. I need to know that you're being honest with me. If you—if you change your mind, I want to know."

"I'm not going to change my mind," he said firmly.

"You might, if you thought you'd come up with a plan to keep me from getting hurt."

"No," he said, giving her another butterfly kiss. "There's no such plan. Because I think when he said he'd kill you if I didn't give up, he didn't mean he'd sneak up on you one night and do it the usual way. I think he's already put it in place, in your own head. So I wouldn't be able to blame anybody but myself."

"But you said I couldn't be forced to do anything against my character," she said. "I'm not suicidal. I'm Catholic; I believe it's a sin."

"True. But you have demonstrated a willingness to sacrifice your life for someone else's. It's all a matter of how it's framed. If you thought you could save me from something terrible by permanently removing yourself from my life, you might do it. Especially with whatever twisted train of thought he planted." His hand paused, then resumed its gentle massage of the back of her head. "He's been planning this for a while, I bet. I should have stayed away from you. I should never have drawn his attention to you."

"You did stay away from me, for six months," she pointed out. "And all it made me was miserable, not safer."

"It was already too late then," he murmured. "My choices led us here, Lisbon. I'm not going to blame you for any of it."

"No, of course not, because you'd rather feel guilty," she grumbled. "I hate to see you admitting defeat, Jane. Don't you think someday you'll regret it?"

"Lisbon, are you actually worried that I might deserve better? Because that's insane. I deserve far worse, actually. You're the one who deserves better."

"Shut up," she murmured. "You're a better man than you let yourself be, most of the time. But nobody could have handled this situation better. In fact, you've been so sweet to me that I'll probably be shocked and hurt when we go back to work and you start pulling your usual shit."

"If it's any consolation, there's a limit to the chaos even I can cause if you don't let me out of your sight. Although I am curious about how strong that urge would be if you were really concentrating on something else. Do you want to stop by the office tomorrow, just to check in?"

"Yes. But I don't want to embarrass myself, so please don't vanish on me."

"Don't worry. We'll stick to the simple stuff. You can do some paperwork while I catch up with all the latest happenings in the bullpen," he assured her. "And we won't stay long. We have things to do."

"We do?" So much for her assumption they would relax, snuggling and eating delicious meals. She'd actually been looking forward to it.

"Yes. I have to provide some clear, irrefutable evidence that I'm holding up my end of the deal. So I'm going down to Malibu to put my house on the market."

She pulled back, trying to make out his expression in the dim moonlight creeping around the edges of the curtains. "Are you sure?" she asked incredulously. "I mean, are you ready for that?"

"It will take a while to sell," he answered. "It takes a certain kind of buyer to live in a house where a serial killer struck. But meanwhile it will prove I'm serious."

"You didn't answer my question." Although maybe that was her answer.

"I don't know if I'm ready. But I know this is something I need to do. I don't know if it's a good idea to take you there, but we won't be there long."

Lisbon stared at him for a moment. He was still focused on her mental state and apparently not processing his own feelings about any of this. There'd be hell to pay when he finally did, she suspected. Unless of course he really was playing her and this was all an elaborate con aimed at Red John.

"You're tensing up again," Jane sighed. "Relax. You need to sleep."

"This isn't just you playing games with him again, is it? Because this is my sanity we're talking about, Jane. Please, please don't leave me out in the cold on this."

"Lisbon," he chided. "I'm not playing games. I promise you."

"I have to be able to trust you to help me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You can. Your welfare is my priority." He moved forward so their foreheads touched. "Teresa," he breathed, giving her name that exotic pronunciation she secretly loved. "I'm going to help you. No conditions, no exceptions, no excuses. You're not just someone I love." He drew in a breath, then whispered, "You're the one I can save."

She felt tears threatening. Of course. His abrupt change of heart made sense to her now. Although he blamed himself for his family's deaths, deep down he knew there was no way he could have anticipated the consequences of his televised remarks. But in her case, he had been clearly warned. He wasn't going to take chances with her life, and true to form, he was going all in, revealing no hesitation or uncertainty. She still thought there would be a price to pay later, but she no longer suspected he was playing a double game.

"I believe you," she said, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Then she closed her eyes and tried to relax, focusing on his fingers moving languidly through her hair. She murmured, "I don't want to dream about him."

"I'll be right here to wake you if you do," he promised. "Go to sleep, sweetheart."

mmm

When Lisbon was finally sleeping soundly, Jane began extricating himself from her embrace, slowly and patiently. He soothed her unhappy mumbling and reaching hands with whispered reassurance and kisses along her hairline, until he was finally able to slide out of bed and listen to her deep, even breathing. He needed to hurry, though. He wasn't sure if her being asleep would buy him much extra time.

Since his plan consisted of not having sex with Lisbon even if she really, really wanted to, he judged it to have a 30 percent chance of success at best. He needed a Plan B, which in this case stood for birth control. A quick look through her toiletries bag revealed that, as he'd thought, she was on the pill. Of course, now that her subconscious thought pregnancy was a desirable thing, he couldn't rely on her to keep taking it regularly. But it might buy him some time; he remembered using other forms of contraception after Angela had gone off the pill, so they could be sure it was entirely out of her system before they started trying for Charlotte.

He checked back in with Lisbon, stroking her hair and watching to make sure she wasn't troubled by bad dreams. Then he proceeded with his search. But at last he had to conclude that Lisbon wasn't keeping a stash of condoms anywhere. On reflection, he decided he shouldn't be surprised. Lisbon guarded her privacy fiercely, so she wouldn't bring casual dates here. As far as he knew, Mancini hadn't set foot in the place except for the morning he'd picked her up to drive her to the cabin. It made sense that she preferred to go to the guy's place, or perhaps meet in the neutral territory of a hotel room. He was possibly the first man to spend the night in this bedroom since she'd moved in. He found he liked that idea.

Sliding back into bed, he savored the feeling of her limbs immediately enfolding him. He could get used to this, he thought. Of course, it looked like he would have little choice.

He loved her, and he wanted to be with her. But he'd always thought that he'd have to coax Lisbon into anything beyond an impulsive one-night stand. He'd looked forward to it, he realized now. He'd never expected to be the one trying to slow things down, to make sure they weren't getting in over their heads.

He had never given serious thought to being a father again. He didn't think he deserved it, after how badly he'd failed Charlotte. But if he were to have another child, he wanted it to be with Lisbon. She would keep him from repeating his mistakes, and she'd kick anybody's ass who dared threaten their child. He'd need that assurance if they ended up trying to make a family knowing Red John was still out there. That was something he could never have imagined, as recently as two days ago.

But while he was sure Lisbon wanted him, because that predated what Red John had done, he was not sure what she wanted for their future. In the diner, he was pretty sure she'd been thinking about one night of red-hot sex and nothing more. But now part of her mind was telling her she had to be with him all the time and working out ways to build a life he wouldn't be tempted to abandon for his quest. That would obscure any original thoughts she might have had, and he very much wanted to know what those were. He didn't want to wake up with her a year from now, or two, or ten, and have her turn to him and say, "I never wanted this." Especially if there was a child wailing in her crib in the next room.

He shuddered a little at the image, and Lisbon's arms tightened around him. Of course, that wasn't a likely scenario, he thought. Lisbon took family seriously. Even if she grew disillusioned, she wouldn't break up a family or abandon her child. She'd just bury her unhappiness and soldier on. And he would know, but he might selfishly decide to pretend not to. That life sounded like it might grow into a worse hell than the previous one Red John had flung him into.

He needed to figure out what Lisbon really wanted, despite what she was currently thinking. No, that was the wrong way to look at it. He needed to remove the manipulated thoughts altogether. This was worse than hypnosis, because there wasn't a trigger he could hope to find. This would be more like behavioral therapy, which he had no desire to engage in.

The ultimate goal of Red John's manipulation of Lisbon's thoughts was to make Jane stop pursuing him. He wondered if he'd been getting close without realizing it. Or maybe this was revenge for Lorelei? That would be bitter, considering Jane had no access to Lorelei. Red John could probably see her easier than he could.

But the point was, Jane didn't merely have to convince whoever was watching of his sincerity; he had to convince Lisbon. If he could make her feel secure in their relationship, her worst symptoms should abate. Then they could go back to work, where she was on firmer ground, and that in turn would make her feel even more secure. Eventually they might achieve something like their normal lives again.

Putting the house up for sale would be a step in the right direction. He wondered if she'd think he was playing her if he started talking about buying a house here in Sacramento. Or maybe looking at rings. He was sure they weren't ready for that, but just talking about it might reassure her.

Rings. His was likely to be a much bigger problem than any he might contemplate buying her. And he knew he wasn't ready to take it off. Selling the house was one thing—he rarely spent time there anymore. Taking off his ring, which he wore everyday, would be a struggle.

_One thing at a time,_ he told himself. Too much at once would likely be more than Lisbon would believe anyway.

A yawn surprised him. Her warmth and familiar scent were lulling him into a doze, he realized. All the better; he suspected he would need to be at the top of his game tomorrow.

mmm

Jane hummed a little in pleasure as he surfaced from his deep sleep. This was without doubt his favorite way to wake up, but it was a rare treat indeed, especially since Charlotte had gotten old enough to climb out of her bed and barge into their room in the pre-dawn hours. "Is it my birthday?" he teased in a lazy tone, without opening his eyes.

A husky chuckle answered him, and the fact that it wasn't Angela's registered at about the same time his nose processed that the lovely feminine scent surrounding him held hints of cinnamon instead of lavender. He was suddenly wide awake. "Lisbon?"

"You were expecting someone else?" she breathed in his ear before sinking her teeth into his earlobe, a sharp nip that made it even harder for his lust-addled brain to work out what was going on. Well, beyond the obvious. The fact that her hand was inside his pajama bottoms made it very, very hard to think. God, her little fingers were sneaky indeed.

"Yes," he gasped out after a second.

She pulled back to look at him, hurt, and he wanted to kick himself. He wasn't supposed to sleep with her, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings if he could help it. If he could derail her with pity, though, he'd do it, no matter how distasteful he found it. "I'm sorry," he said truthfully.

She frowned at him, withdrawing her hand. "Are you really not ready?" she asked, sounding uncertain. "I thought, after Lorelei..."

She trailed off, and he could feel her uncertainty chilling into discomfort.

"I had sex with Lorelei for reasons that had nothing to do with any kind of emotional commitment," he reminded her. "And sex was all it was. That's not what I want with you."

Her expression was conflicted, and he was struck with inspiration. Emotional commitment wasn't Lisbon's usual M.O., after all. He might be able to scare her off, temporarily, with the truth."When I make love with you, Teresa, that's what it will be. Not just sex. It will be a commitment, an expression of how much we love each other. The start of something permanent, part of the foundation of our new life together. And I need to be absolutely sure that's what it will be for you as well."

She blinked at him, turning his words over in her mind and looking for evidence that he might be conning her. He could see her deeply buried romantic side trying to surface but not quite making it. Still, it was time for desperate measures. "And I don't think I am quite ready. I know I should take this off." He held up his left hand so she could see the first rays of dawn glinting off the gold. "And I thought about it last night. But...I can't. Not yet." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to push you," she said slowly. "But couldn't we...I don't need...we don't have to..."

He couldn't help smiling at her affectionately. She wasn't used to dealing with a man secure enough in his masculinity to admit wanting romance as well as sex, and she was thoroughly flustered. He took advantage of the pause to exert control over his body, which was strenuously objecting to his brain's choice to reject what she was offering. She was warm and strong and soft in all the right places, and God, he could smell how aroused she was. He bit back a groan and focused on slowing his heart rate.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally.

"Don't be," he whispered back, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. "I love you, and I want you. I just don't want either of us to have regrets. I have enough of those."

"I know," she sighed.

"Besides," he said, trying to lighten the tension between them, "we're going into the office today. You don't want to face a bunch of detectives with that telltale flush in your cheeks, do you?"

"Oh, I do not have a telltale flush," she said, sounding more like herself.

"My dear Lisbon, I have been able to tell every single time you've walked into the office after, as they say, getting some. And it hasn't escaped our colleagues' notice either, though they would never let on. But haven't you ever noticed that they choose those mornings to ask you for things?"

She scrunched up her nose, trying to think of a way to refute his point but not coming up with anything. Then she gave an indignant little gasp. "You tell them to!"

He chuckled, accepting her thump on his chest as just punishment. "I may, from time to time, have expressed my thoughts about the best timing of reminders about performance reviews or leave requests."

"Which you will not be doing any more," she said darkly.

"I won't need to. If your exquisite complexion doesn't tip them off, my ineradicable satisfied grin will."

She gave him a shove that nearly sent him sprawling on the floor. He recovered, but got out of bed anyway, feeling both sorry and relieved at having extricated himself from a truly tricky situation. "I'll get breakfast started," he said. "Do you want to help, or try for a quick shower?"

She pouted at him—actually pouted at him, with those lush full lips and big luminous eyes. He nearly succumbed to the urge to slide back into bed and kiss the expression off her face, actually swaying forward before catching himself. "I don't suppose it would do any good to invite you to join me," she sighed in a sultry voice that went straight to his groin.

He swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I'll take a rain check," he said, then turned to leave the room before she got the better of him. He resolved to stop by a drugstore at the earliest opportunity, because there was no way he was going to be able to continue resisting her indefinitely. Even his self-control had its limits.

mmm

Lisbon clutched at his hand hard as they approached the CBI, then let go to stop at the gate and exchange greetings with the guard on duty. She was doing a little better, he thought, after managing to shower and dress before having to come find him. And she needed the confidence boost, because she was terrified of humiliating herself in the office, despite his promises to stay close.

The warm welcome she received from the team seemed to calm her, he was pleased to note. And he was very glad he had resisted temptation when he noticed how closely Cho was looking at them both. He was sure that if Cho decided he was taking advantage of this situation, he'd need some reconstructive surgery on his much-abused nose.

"We got some bad news, Boss," Cho said after the greetings had been exchanged. "Mancini was found dead this morning in his apartment. Used his weapon to blow his brains out."

Jane wished he'd broken the news a little more gently, but Lisbon only nodded. "Thanks for telling me. I assume there won't be an investigation."

"There should be," Cho said. "Guys like that don't shoot themselves in the face. But it's the FBI's problem, not ours." He glanced at Jane as if daring him to disagree.

Jane couldn't care less about Mancini; as far as he was concerned, he got what he deserved. Better, actually, since it sounded like it had been quick. He took the opportunity to touch Lisbon, though, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She let him, but she glanced at him to let him know she didn't need comfort.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Since things are quiet around here, I'll just check my email and deal with whatever's landed on my desk while I've been gone." She looked at Jane and said, "You can stay out of trouble for that long, can't you?"

He smiled, answering her unspoken question. "I'll stay right here."

She left the bullpen, and Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt closed into a huddle around him. He wished they wouldn't be so obvious, but Lisbon wouldn't be surprised that they wanted to interrogate him.

"She seems better," Rigsby said hopefully.

"She is," Jane said, more because they needed to hear it than because he believed it. "She's too strong to stay under anybody's influence for long." Which was why Red John had been so clever to enlist her buried desires to achieve his ends.

"How long do you think it will take before she's ready to come back?" Grace asked.

"Not long. Though I think she's due for a rest anyway," Jane replied. "How are you all doing? Surviving without us, I take it?"

"Sure," Cho said. "For the time being. Jane, that box beside your couch is your personal stuff. I cleaned out the attic so I could give all the Red John stuff to the FBI. I found the stuff under the floorboards; anything else hidden up there?"

Jane stiffened as a wave of fury crashed over him, then forced his expression into indifference. He'd told Cho to get rid of the case, after all; he couldn't fault him for being thorough. And if he wasn't working the Red John case, he had no reason to shut himself away in his attic. Until Lisbon was able to let him out of her sight for hours at a time, he couldn't even if he wanted to.

They were looking at him like he might spontaneously combust, and he felt that wasn't a complete impossibility himself. He felt violated and frustrated and powerless to do anything about it. His gaze went automatically to Lisbon's office, watching as she bent over her paperwork. She was worth it, he told himself. There was no question. It was just that this was too huge a sacrifice to be graceful about.

"It's all still here," Cho said after a moment. "Bertram won't authorize turning the files over until he's talked to you. He thinks it's a scam, and he doesn't want more trouble with the FBI."

Crap. Bertram probably wanted to talk to Lisbon about turning the case over, too. She wasn't ready for that. But he didn't want any delay; he wasn't sure he wouldn't yield to the temptation to glance at his notes one last time. Dammit, all the work, the time and effort he'd put into those notes, and now they'd lie buried in some FBI storage facility. He knew they wouldn't take his work seriously.

"You did the right thing," he forced himself to say, because Cho had been a good friend to him and to Lisbon and was just trying to help. It wasn't fair to resent him for that.

"No," Cho said, "I'm helping you do the right thing."

Jane looked at him and saw the sympathy there. They were all looking at him like that, in fact. He shook his head. "I have no choice."

"You do," Cho said. "And you made the right one."

Rigsby said, "We know it's tough."

"If you ever need to talk, we're here," Grace added.

"Thanks." He stared at his shoes for a second, a little embarrassed by the show of solidarity. Of course, this was mostly about making sure he did the right thing for Lisbon's sake, but he still appreciated it. "Tell Bertram I'll meet with him when I get back. I'm going out of town for a day or two. I need to put my house on the market."

Grace actually patted him on the shoulder. Cho said, "Good idea. I'll tell him."

Jane glanced at Lisbon's office again. She seemed fine, engrossed in her work. "I'll just go through the box and make sure there's nothing in there that needs to go to the FBI."

Of course there wouldn't be; Cho was too good for that. But he needed a moment to deal with all this, and sitting alone on his couch was the best he could do under the circumstances. He was grateful beyond measure when they went back to their desks and left him to it.

mmm

Lisbon was surprised and pleased when she glanced at the clock on her computer screen and realized she hadn't needed to look for Jane for a good twenty minutes now. She was getting better, and it seemed she could block out her anxiety while she was concentrating on work. At least Red John hadn't managed to ruin her career, she thought in relief.

But where was Jane? He'd been talking to the others last time she'd looked. When she stood up, she saw the familiar blond curls bent over something on his couch. Relief washed over her.

She was done with the urgent and semi-urgent items in her inbox, and it was a long drive to Malibu. She thought she'd buy Jane a nice lunch to thank him for behaving, somewhere outside Sacramento where they could hold hands if they wanted. It was a nice day, and he loved outdoor cafes.

She logged off her computer, straightened her desk a bit, and went out to the bullpen, smiling at her team as they looked up from their work. Then she frowned as she recognized some of the things in the box Jane was staring into so intently. "Is that from upstairs?"

Jane didn't look up, and she didn't like the tension in his shoulders. "Yes," he said.

"You went up to your attic?" Despite her best effort, anger crept into her tone. Dammit, he'd promised her!

"I did it, Boss," Cho said quickly. "Yesterday, after we got back. Jane's just making sure I didn't miss anything."

"You cleaned out his attic?" Lisbon was incredulous, then angry again. That was Jane's space, the closest he came to a place where he felt comfortable. Nobody went up there except the two of them.

Jane finally looked up. His voice was calm, but his smile was patently false. "I asked him to. After all, I don't need it anymore." He put the lid back on the box and stood. "Ready to go?"

_Get me out of here,_ his eyes were saying. She decided she could get to the bottom of this later. "Yes. Guys, call me if anything comes up. And thanks for holding down the fort."

A chorus of good-byes followed them into the hall. There were enough other people in the elevator when they got on that Lisbon could lean against him without being noticed. She needed the contact, although she wasn't sure he wanted it.

When they reached her car, she asked, "Do you want to drive?"

He glanced at her. "Do I seem so sad?"

"Sad? No. Upset? Yes."

"And you think I'm safe to be behind the wheel in my current upset state?" he asked, dryly amused.

"Why can you never let me be nice to you?" she demanded, frustrated.

"I'm a creature of habit, Lisbon. When you try to be nice to me, it disrupts my sense of normalcy."

She rolled her eyes, but she recognized that he needed to vent. If he wanted to do that by being a jackass to her, she could handle it. "I apologize for upsetting your sense of normalcy," she said sarcastically. "And to avoid further upsetting you, I won't ask you where you'd like to have lunch. I'll just pick someplace that looks good to me. Oh, and I won't offer to pick up the tab, either. Or talk to you on the drive."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart," he replied, apparently in earnest. But once they had driven through the gate and were safe from prying eyes, he took her hand in his, sparing her from having to reach for him.

She resolved to make sure he got some pie after lunch.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **I continue to be amazed and humbled by the support for this fic. I only hope I can live up to it! Now, as much as we all love sweet and thoughtful Jane, nobody can keep that up forever, right? So here we go...

**Chapter 15**

Lisbon kept her promise not to talk to Jane all through lunch, using the time to research real estate agents in the Malibu area on her smartphone. It would save time, since she knew that left to his own devices, Jane would come up with some weird method of choosing one that would involve driving randomly around or accosting people in public places.

She hoped his silence was because he was working through things, rather than unproductively brooding. It was one thing to give up his quest in the abstract, but now that he was confronting the reality of it, it wasn't surprising he was sulking a little. Or a lot. She hoped it wasn't going to be too much for him. Giving up his attic and notes was hard enough; maybe they should leave the house for another day.

Since they weren't talking, she didn't ask him whether he wanted pie, just ordered for both of them. He was lost in his thoughts and seemed surprised when the server set the slice of apple pie down in front of him. He smiled up at the server, then over at Lisbon. "Thanks."

"You looked like you were in a pie mood," she replied lightly, trying not to show how pleased she was to have his attention. As he dug in, she decided she should seize the opportunity. "We don't have to do this today. We could just go to the beach or something."

"I want to get it over with," he mumbled after swallowing his bite. Then he took a sip of his tea, grimaced a little, and continued in a more normal tone, "Besides, why waste all your diligent real estate research?"

She was surprised he'd noticed. Apparently he was only pretending to be oblivious to the world around him. "I just want to help. But only if you really want to do this."

"It's not a question of wanting to do it," he said. "But since I have to, I'm happy to have your help. Perhaps you'd do me a favor and do most of the talking. I might not be able to resist antagonizing the paragon of salesmanship you have picked out, and that would be counterproductive. You possess the ability to talk patiently to fatuous people, at least for brief periods. And since neither of us knows or cares about feng shui or staging, you can just smile and nod."

There was an edge to his voice she didn't quite like, but she pretended not to notice. She didn't really want to participate in this, but if it would make it easier for him, she was willing. Still, there was a glaring problem with his plan. "Sure. But you might have to show him the upstairs."

Jane nodded. "Of course. No need to give you unnecessary headaches." He took another bite of pie.

She did the same, and they ate in silence until the check came. Lisbon paid it without comment, leaving her pie unfinished while she debated the wisdom of what she wanted to do. Finally she decided to just go for it. "I know you usually don't like to be thanked," she began.

"Then don't," he interrupted.

She stared down at her pie, inwardly flinching at his tone. Maybe talking really was a bad idea. She would deal with the agent and the house as much as she was able, since that was what he'd asked her to do, and she wouldn't talk about the other ramifications of it until he was ready. No matter how miserable it made her, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling, she knew.

She felt the hated anxiety creeping over her again, but she didn't dare try to touch him. She could only pray that giving up Red John didn't kill his feelings for her. She'd never realized before that they might be tangled up in his head, one inextricable from the other.

mmm

Jane was lost in his own thoughts as they walked out to Lisbon's car, so it took him a moment to register that she had followed him to the passenger side and was holding out the keys. At first he thought she was shaking them at him, but then he realized her hand was shaking because the rest of her was. "What's wrong?" he asked, automatically reaching for her.

She buried her face in his shoulder and didn't respond. He quickly reviewed lunch in his head, looking for clues. He'd been a little harsh with her when she tried to thank him, but Lisbon was thick-skinned. No, he'd somehow managed to activate the anxiety that came from her need to keep him away from Red John. Was she afraid his behavior was reluctance? Dammit, it felt so unfair that he not only had to do these difficult and painful things, but he also had to put up a mask around the one person he was used to confiding in. He wondered if Red John had known how exquisitely painful his trap would be for them both, or if this was just an unexpected benefit. But Lisbon was truly all he had left now, and he was damned if he was going to lose her, no matter how rough things got.

"Lisbon," he said gently, "I know I'm acting like a bear somebody poked with a stick, but it isn't aimed at you. Don't take it personally."

"How can I not take it personally?" she said in disbelief, pulling back to look at him. "There's no way you would be doing any of this if you weren't trying to help me. If you need to snap at me, that's okay. If you need to sit and not talk, that's okay too." She drew in a watery breath. "If you need to rant at me for ruining your life, then do it, because we both know I have."

"You've done no such thing," he said firmly. "Lisbon, I could never have made it through all these years without you. And I know it wasn't your choice to change things."

"But some of it was my choice," she protested. "You said it was already in my subconscious."

"Lots of things float around our subconscious minds, Lisbon. We can't be held responsible for them all. And I know you would never have tried to make me give up my goal, no matter how much you wished I would." He stroked her cheek, watching some of the tension leave her. He realized he hadn't touched her all through lunch, which meant she'd already been anxious when he snapped at her. No wonder she was shaky. Would it have been so hard to at least play footsie with her, he scolded himself.

"You have to bear with me, Lisbon. I'm not used to being the responsible one."

"As long as you bear with me," she said, closing her eyes and leaning into his caress. "I'm not used to being the out-of-control one."

He chuckled, swallowing a remark that being out of control could be a good thing in the right place. But considering that he was the reason they hadn't demonstrated that in bed this morning, he thought he'd best not remind her. He reached down and took the keys from her hand. "Let's go find this realtor you've picked out. You can boss us both around for a while." And maybe he could snatch a few minutes to himself, he hoped.

mmm

Once Lisbon regained her composure, she called and arranged for them to meet Barrett Denton at Jane's house. She also advised him that he'd want to research the history of the house beforehand, as the seller was sensitive about it. Jane was simultaneously grateful and annoyed—he didn't feel like explaining why the master bedroom needed painted or listening to Lisbon do it, but he hated the reminder that his greatest mistake, with all the gory details, was out there for anybody to find. Even if he had accomplished his revenge, that wouldn't have changed. Nothing would ever erase that.

So he was already in a surly mood when they arrived, and the fact that Denton was unexpectedly attractive—and obviously noticed that Lisbon was too—didn't cheer him any. He let the two of them chat, looking around one last time at this house that had once seemed like such a bright beginning and now was the scene of his utter defeat.

Then he saw Denton reach out and touch Lisbon. He was only urging her to turn and talk about the view, but Jane noticed that his gaze strayed to her left hand as he did so. He didn't bother suppressing the jealousy that boiled up inside him; his days of watching men hit on her were done.

"Yes," he said brightly, stepping up behind Lisbon and wrapping his arms around her, "the view was the main reason my first wife and I bought the place. I'm hoping it will be irresistible to someone else as well. How are you feeling, darling? Not queasy again, are you?" He rubbed gentle circles low on her abdomen and looked up at Denton smugly. "She's so self-conscious about not being able to wear her rings, but her fingers are already swelling. This hasn't been an easy pregnancy so far, which is part of the reason we want to get this place sold quickly. We want to get settled in our new home while Teresa still has enough energy to nest."

Denton summoned up a smile. "Congratulations! Well, I think we can certainly sell this house in a reasonable timeframe. We'll need to put some money into freshening it up and staging, of course."

"Anything you need to do," Jane said pleasantly. "Would you like to look around upstairs? Teresa and I don't like to go up there, for obvious reasons."

"I'll just be a minute," he said, turning to climb the stairs.

Jane glanced down at Lisbon, who'd made no effort to pull away. Her hands closed over his, and he had the disconcerting feeling that she was having a little daydream. But then she said quietly, "Did I pass?"

"Hm?" He decided to play dumb.

"You did that to see how I would react," she accused, but there was no anger in her voice.

"I did that to let him know he'd better not put his hands on you again," Jane replied. "But since you haven't elbowed me in the ribs or stomped on my toes yet, I gather you have no objections."

"That's far from the worst story you've told people about me." She slid her fingers into his, one of them rubbing briefly over his wedding ring. "Did you…do you want…?"

He swallowed down a flash of anger, holding himself tightly in check. "Can we please not talk about this here?"

"Of course," she said immediately, turning in his arms to give him a hug. Then she started to pull back, aware that he wasn't in the mood to be comforted.

Yielding to impulse, he pulled her back against him, bringing his mouth down on hers in a devouring kiss that had no tenderness in it but was merely an attempt to lose himself in her. She responded immediately, and it was only Denton's return that brought them both back to their senses.

"Well, I think I've seen everything I need to. Would you like to come back to my office and get the boring paperwork started?" he asked briskly.

"We'll meet you there in an hour," Jane said. "We have some things to wrap up here first."

"Right." Denton tried and failed to keep the knowing smirk off his face. "You'll want all the records pertaining to the house, mortgage statements and the like."

"There's no mortgage," Jane said. "But I'll bring what I have."

"Right. See you in an hour," Denton said, heading out the door.

mmm

"You own this outright?" Lisbon asked when the silence after Denton's departure had stretched a little too long for her comfort.

"Yes. Paid it off two years after we bought it. Why are you surprised? Did you think I could afford a mortgage on a place like this on what you pay me?" He led the way into what had been his office, took the single remaining painting off the wall, and opened the safe behind it. He began pulling papers and files out, barely looking at them but separating them into piles on the dusty desk.

"Can I help?" she asked, wanting something to do besides look at the set of his shoulders and the restrained violence in the way he threw things onto the desk.

He pointed to the pile nearest her, the largest. "That should all be destroyed."

She dared to look at the thick manila envelope on top. "Are you sure? This says 'Wills.'"

"I'm sure. The petty tyrants in HR made me do a new one a couple of years ago, when they started requiring all employees to do medical directives and such, even we lowly consultants." The next file hit the stack with a loud slap. "Just think, Lisbon. All this might have been yours." His hand swept the room in a grandiose gesture before going back to sorting.

She probably shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. "Really? If I'd known that, I wouldn't have worked so hard at keeping you alive."

A bitter chuckle was his only response, until he found something that made him pause. He froze, then slipped it into his pocket and cleared his throat. "No good deed goes unpunished, eh, Lisbon? Though I'm not sure it would have been worth it. I bet my affairs would be a mess to sort out. I just didn't trust anyone else to do the appropriate things."

"Like what?" She knew he would not have cared about funeral arrangements, and anyone would have known to bury him beside his family.

"I don't know. A rehab program for revenge seekers? I was leaving that up to you for good reason."

The strain in his voice worried her. He was trying for glib, she could tell, but he was nowhere near it. "I guess I could have set up a secret slush fund for us to buy fancy toys to hunt serial killers in your memory."

He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. "See? I knew you'd know what to do with it. I'll use whatever's left over for that. Property is cheaper in Sacramento, I imagine."

"You're serious about that?"

"I think it's what I'm expected to do. I already did the rolling in the gutter approach to giving up. Now I guess I'll try fading into suburban obscurity."

It sounded like a dismal fate indeed, put that way. She swallowed hard. "You think it's realistic to stay with the CBI now that you aren't hunting him anymore?"

He let out a long sigh and stared at the empty safe. "For now, yes. If only because if I left, you'd have to come with me."

"True. Do you have a shredder?"

"No, but I have a fireplace and matches." He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a matchbook. "You do that while I get the rest of my clothes."

mmm

They were at Denton's office for two hours, about an hour and forty-five minutes longer than Jane could gracefully bear. Lisbon found herself doing all the talking and reading of legal documents, nudging Jane when he needed to sign or initial something. She thought about suggesting he just give her power of attorney and go find a tearoom, but she was afraid he would actually do it. Or, worse, wander into the sunset and never come back.

When they finally escaped, she just wanted to put Malibu behind them as quickly as possible, but Jane directed her to a little restaurant by the beach. They had a mostly silent but delicious seafood dinner, after which he said, "If I stay in sight, will you be all right while I go for a walk?"

God, she hated being treated like she was fragile, even if she might be right now. A little. "Of course. I'll have some coffee and try to revive all those brain cells that went into comas reading all that legalese."

"Great." He was out of his chair and off the patio like someone was chasing him. She looked after him sadly, hoping he could find some solace in the waves crashing on the dark beach, then ordered coffee. Halfway through her cup, she realized he'd left his jacket hanging on his chair. Glancing at the beach, she could just make out his silhouette near a rocky outcropping, too far away to see clearly.

She slid her chair partway around the table and leaned over, sliding her fingers into his jacket pocket. It was just one sheet of paper, and she unfolded it with a sinking heart. It was his daughter's birth certificate.

She put it back, taking a deep, steadying breath. No wonder he needed some time; his ghosts must be hovering very close tonight. She would try to give him all the time he needed.

mmm

Two cups of decaf coffee later, Lisbon had exhausted all the distracting possibilities in her email and had resorted to playing solitaire, keeping one eye on her phone's battery. She was one of the few patrons left, and she suspected she'd be the only one before long, since the couple two tables over were shortly going to have to take their activities somewhere private or risk arrest. At least the latter option would give her something to do, she reflected.

She could still see the Jane-shaped shadow at the edge of the surf, dimly visible in the moonlight. He'd slowly moved back toward the restaurant but seemed in no hurry. Maybe he was seeing how long she could last, she thought, checking the time. She'd been alone almost two hours now. She was getting better. Or maybe just being able to see him was enough.

How long was he going to last, she wondered. He was already unhappy about what he'd done today, and whatever next steps occurred to him were probably not going to be easy either. And what if Red John decided to test his resolve by killing again? She did not want to watch Jane tear himself to pieces trying to decide what he could bear. Damn Red John anyway. His usual method of killing seemed almost merciful compared to this slow torture.

Maybe it would be better if he just killed me, she thought, and then angrily pushed the thought out of her mind. That wasn't something she would normally think. Jane was right again, dammit: Red John had planted it in her head, to ensure that Jane would regret any backsliding.

She rubbed at her forehead to ease the ache the name provoked. She needed to stop thinking about him. She thought she should tell Jane what she'd just experienced, but today was probably not a good time. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe, she thought, she could make sure it was.

The next time the server stopped to ask if she wanted more coffee, Lisbon asked, "Any good places to stay around here? Bed and breakfast, maybe?"

"Sure, there's one right up the beach." He pointed in the direction Jane had originally walked.

"Know anything about the cooking? Specifically the eggs."

He grinned. "Never heard any complaints. We get a lot of their guests for lunch and dinner. Want the number?"

"Thanks." She smiled at him, relieved that the first part of her plan was going so well.

mmm

Jane came back half an hour later, his expression neutral. Lisbon said, "I got the check already. And I found us a place to stay, right up the beach. The cook promised there'd be eggs for breakfast."

He shrugged into his jacket and said, "Efficient as always. Shall we go?"

She bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if he was all right. He wasn't, but he wouldn't admit it. He'd probably rather hole up in his damned attic than sleep in a comfy bed with the promise of a good breakfast. But she couldn't arrange that, so she'd make do with what she had.

When they arrived, Lisbon was delighted to see that their room featured a tiny balcony overlooking the ocean. Jane made a beeline for the French doors, barely glancing at the rest of the room after dropping his bag onto a chair. She decided to leave him to it and give him at least the illusion of privacy.

The bathroom featured an old-fashioned claw-footed bathtub, a bath pillow, and a bottle of rose-scented bubble bath that made her pause and thank God for unexpected mercies. After the day she'd had, she deserved a good soak. After starting the water, she went to dig her robe out of her bag and ran across the lace teddy, which she didn't remember packing. This might seem like a perfect setting for romance, but she was pretty sure Jane wasn't going to be in the mood no matter what she did. It would take him some time to crawl back out of his own head. So she grabbed her regular sleeping jersey in addition to the robe and headed back to the bathroom.

She had lost track of time, though she was beginning to feel the anxiety prowling around the edges of her awareness even in the bliss of the hot, sweet-smelling water when Jane knocked on the door and stuck his head in. She opened her eyes just in time to see a grin spread over his face as he took in the sight of her head sticking out of a small mountain of bubbles.

"I see you've settled in for the night," he said.

She could tell he was holding back several teasing comments, obviously afraid she might take him up on an offer to wash her back or monitor her to make sure she didn't fall asleep and drown. "This is a cut above the crappy places we usually stay," she observed. "I was beginning to think you were going to spend the night out on the balcony."

"Too small," he said. "I'd like to leave one of the doors open, though, unless you think it's an unacceptable security risk."

There was definite mockery in his tone, and she closed her eyes again and said, "I've got my gun. I think we can take the chance."

He was silent for a moment, until she opened her eyes again and looked closely at him. He'd opened the door fully and was hovering on the threshold, which she regarded as a hopeful sign until she noticed the expression in his eyes. "You want to go back to the house, don't you?" she sighed.

He grimaced. "I know it's ridiculous, but yes."

Seriously, she thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Only Patrick Jane would want to go ramble around an empty house when he had a naked, interested woman right here in front of him. Well, she didn't love him for his normalcy, that was for sure. "My keys are in my jacket pocket."

"Will you be all right?"

"I plan to stay in here until I'm too pruney to stand it anymore," she replied. "Just don't be all night."

"I'll keep my cell on if you need me," he said. He started to go, then stuck his head back in. "Thanks."

What was her alternative? she wondered. Throw a tantrum? Guilt him into staying? God, he'd be unbearable in the morning if she lost her mind enough to do either of those things. "Don't drive my car like a maniac," she called after him.

His dismissive "Don't worry" floated back to her just before the door closed behind him.

He hadn't been gone five minutes before she started obsessing about whether he was coming back. Had giving him her keys been too much? She'd thought she was doing better. Maybe that was because she thought he was really giving up the house, and now she wasn't so sure? He could change his mind at any time. All it would take was a phone call and maybe some paperwork.

She got out of the tub and tried to occupy her mind with her usual bedtime tasks, carefully counting out the seconds while brushing her teeth and then counting strokes while she brushed her hair. She then proceeded to straighten everything in both the bathroom and bedroom that could possibly be straightened, including the things in her suitcase.

Damn it, she was not going to call him. He needed to do whatever it was he was doing, and he'd done nothing but think of her for the past 36 hours or so. She stayed by herself in hotel rooms all the time; she shouldn't need company.

She closed the French doors, reasoning that he could always open them again if and when he came back. Then she pulled out her gun and set it on the nightstand, thinking she'd feel better with it in reach. He was sure to lose track of time; he always did when he was brooding. But if she could just get to sleep, she'd be fine. God, what she wouldn't give for a bottle of tequila about now. Although in her current state, that might just be a recipe for the most humiliating drunk dial in the history of phones.

Then it occurred to her: Jane kept a supply of sleeping pills for when he was desperate. Maybe she could take one of those. She was sure he wouldn't mind.

mmm

It was a beautiful dawn, as if the same perverse weather spirits that sent sunshine and singing birds to funerals or disaster zones had visited him. Jane had been in a kind of half-doze, but as he woke fully he became aware that he was far too old to pass a night sitting on a hard floor. He should at least have gone upstairs to his mattress.

His brain woke up just as he was getting to his feet. Dawn? He'd spent the entire night here? Damn it, Lisbon would be half out of her mind worrying about him. How had he slept through his phone ringing? He never did that.

But his phone revealed no missed calls. At first he was relieved, thinking she had managed to fall asleep. Then his mind started conjuring up other, more sinister theories. Had she concluded that he wasn't coming back, that he'd changed his mind? Had that triggered the suicidal impulse he feared Red John had planted?

He dialed her phone on his way out the door, but it rang until it went to voicemail. He tried twice more before giving up. It had taken him nearly half an hour to drive here last night, but he made it back to the bed and breakfast in under fifteen, his heart hammering the whole time.

Later it would occur to him that this was the second time in 48 hours he was opening a door not knowing if she were alive on the other side, but right now he was focused on getting the old-fashioned key in the door, which was hard to do when his hands were shaking with adrenaline. He'd been relieved by the lack of police cars or any sign of disturbance when he'd arrived; she hadn't shot herself, at least.

When he saw her lying peacefully in bed, he closed his eyes in relief. He could hear her breathing, slowly and evenly, so his worst fears vanished. But the pill bottle on the nightstand made him frown, and he picked it up to read the label. It was his prescription, meant for his worst periods of insomnia—far too strong for Lisbon, whose body mass was significantly less. If she'd taken more than two she might be in real danger, no matter how well she looked.

He brushed the hair back from her face, noting the tear tracks there. He hoped she hadn't been having nightmares—he knew all too well that the pills didn't stop those, just made it impossible to wake up from them. "Lisbon," he called, then repeated himself more loudly. She didn't respond, so he tried patting her cheek lightly and pinching her earlobe. She rolled her head away with an annoyed little grumble but showed no sign of waking.

He opened the bottle, but he had no way of knowing how many she'd taken. He didn't make a habit of counting his pills. Still, the fact that there were several left argued that she hadn't overdosed; she would have taken them all if that had been her intent. And her pulse was strong and steady. It was probably just a question of waiting for it to wear off enough for her to wake up. He tried to picture her reaction if he had her rushed to the hospital to have her stomach pumped unnecessarily, but it didn't bear thinking about.

Plus, it occurred to him, any hint of suicidal tendencies in her medical record would have unpleasant repercussions at work. Now that he thought about it, they probably shouldn't tell anyone what they suspected Red John had done to her. Lisbon hated therapy for good reason, and there was no therapist out there qualified to deal with any landmines Red John had laid in her psyche. He was sure she'd agree with him, and he doubted they'd get any resistance from the rest of the team, especially since they only knew what he and Lisbon chose to tell them.

He just needed to be absolutely sure she was all right, and he wouldn't be until he got her to talk to him. He put his mouth next to her ear and said loudly, "Lisbon, I'm in trouble. I need your help. Wake up!"

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a whimper, and then slurred, "Dammit, Jane. Jussaminute."

He smiled in relief, sliding onto the bed and wrapping her in his arms as she fell back to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Is it wrong that I did a little dance when I realized this fic now had more than 200 reviews? Thank you all! And as your reward, the latter part of this chapter is rated M. Nothing explicit but definitely sexytimes and one bad word I rarely use. I've marked where that section begins for those of you who should/prefer to skip it. I confess I'm a little nervous about this so I'd welcome constructive criticism!

**Chapter 16**

Jane managed a couple hours of sleep before a knock at the door woke him. He got up to answer it, noticing that Lisbon stirred restlessly as he did so. He hoped that meant she was close to waking.

An older lady he vaguely remembered from last night stood there. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but we're about to close the kitchen for breakfast. Did you want anything?"

He was hungry, he realized. But he also thought it was important that Lisbon not wake up alone. He glanced over his shoulder to find she had gone back to sleeping peacefully, so he turned his most devastating smile on Mrs. Moreland. "She's sleeping well for the first time in weeks, and I promised I'd be here when she woke up. I don't suppose I could convince you to bring up some eggs, toast, and tea? I don't think she'll want a big breakfast. The morning sickness, you know."

She beamed at him. "I remember it well. You stay with your wife; I'll bring up a tray. Do you think you're staying another night? Last night your wife said you weren't sure."

"Yes, I think we will." After all, he'd barely gotten to enjoy the place, and he wanted to tease Lisbon about her girly predilection for bubble baths. "It's so beautiful here."

"Yes, we think so too. I'll be right back with your breakfast."

Jane decided to preempt any protests Lisbon might make about extending their stay by calling into work himself. Cho answered his cell on the first ring. "You guys okay?"

"You really have no faith in me, do you? Hello to you too," Jane replied. "We're fine, but we're still in Malibu. Well, slightly north of there, but still nowhere near Sacramento."

"Okay. How's Lisbon?"

"Better. She's catching up on her sleep or she'd tell you herself. How are things there?"

"We're good. We told Bertram you were freaking out after our close call and Lisbon was babysitting you. He said to take all the time you need, but don't come back until you're as close to normal as you get."

Jane chuckled. "Nice. I was going to suggest that we keep what happened to ourselves."

"Yeah, we figured. She's really better?" Jane could hear whispering in the background as Grace and Rigsby tried to get their questions in.

"Yes. Putting the house up for sale helped. We'll be back tomorrow evening, most likely." A knock at the door forestalled his next remark. "Gotta go. Room service is here."

"Keep us posted," Cho said, then hung up.

Jane let Mrs. Moreland in, delighted to find an actual teapot on the tray. English Breakfast wasn't his favorite, but it wasn't his least favorite either, and it smelled wonderful. The eggs looked perfect, and the toast came with marmalade for him and strawberry preserves for Lisbon. He praised his hostess profusely and, more to the point, tipped her lavishly when she finished setting up the small table by the balcony doors.

He finished off the eggs, ate some toast, and was savoring his third cup of tea by the time there was movement from the bed. Lisbon crawled out the far side and vanished into the bathroom. When she emerged, she came over to stare at the table in puzzlement. "Coffee?" she muttered.

"That, my dear, would be bad for the baby," he replied, smiling. He would never get tired of rumpled morning Lisbon.

She picked his teacup up off the table, sipped to test its temperature, and gulped it down. Then she fixed him with a glare. "Are you planning to tell everyone we meet I'm pregnant? Because that will get old fast."

"I'm practicing for starting a rumor at work," he said.

She slumped into the empty chair and took a piece of toast, staring at it glumly. "Why? You do realize that nobody would think it was yours. The whole damn building knows I was dating Mancini."

"A mere misdirection. The whole damn building also knows we've been lovers for years now."

"Then they're idiots. Like I'd take you back after that Vegas stunt," she grumbled.

"But everyone thinks that was sanctioned," he pointed out.

"Not the Lorelei part," she argued.

"No need to fret, Lisbon. I know better than to stray again," he smiled.

She spread preserves on her toast and took a bite. "We're not even dating."

"Maybe not in the traditional sense." He thought about it for a moment. "It's more old-fashioned than that. Like an arranged betrothal."

She snorted. "It's too early for your nonsense." Then she blinked, taking in how light the room was. "What time is it? When did you get back?"

"It is nearly eleven o'clock," he replied. "I woke at dawn, realized you hadn't called, tried to call you, broke several traffic laws, tried to wake you but couldn't, decided against having your stomach pumped, caught a few hours of sleep, had a nice chat with our lovely hostess, and had breakfast. It's been a busy morning." His pleasant tone faltered a little. "If you feel the need to steal my pills again, please confine yourself to one at a time."

"Yeah." She ducked her head so her hair hid her face. "Sorry if I scared you. I didn't know how well those work."

"Too well," he said. "Did you have nightmares?"

"Not that I remember," she lied.

He decided not to call her on it until she'd had coffee. Obviously he was going to need to take her out for brunch, and soon, so he'd better get moving. He stood, saying, "I'll get my shower. And apparently I need to shave, since you look like you've had a close encounter with a briar patch." He stroked the reddened patch along her jawline where his earlier nuzzling had marked her, then tipped up her chin to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry I left you," he murmured.

She met his gaze briefly, her eyes full of concern for him. "I know you needed to be alone," she said. "And now I know I can get through a night by myself, which is a good thing."

"I don't think drugging yourself into prolonged unconsciousness is something you should do very often," he replied. "But I'll try to make sure you don't have to."

Her gaze was asking him _Are you better?_, but he didn't have an answer for her. So he smiled reassuringly and went into the bathroom.

mmm

Lisbon wasn't very hungry, so she finished her toast, drank another cup of tea for the caffeine, and began straightening up. Then she quickly got dressed, pulled her unruly hair back into a ponytail, and decided to carry the tray downstairs.

Mrs. Moreland was washing up the last of the dishes and took the tray from her with a smile. "Good morning, and thank you. I was just going to check and see if you were finished. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," Lisbon assured her. "Thank you for the room service."

"It was my pleasure. I remember how fraught breakfast could be. How far along are you?"

Lisbon suppressed a sigh. She would dearly love to know Jane's rationale for telling such a whopper to this kind old lady. "It's early days. We haven't even told my family yet."

Mrs. Moreland chuckled a little. "But he's just too excited to keep it to himself. I'm so glad he's getting a second chance, and I wish you both very happy."

"You know him?" Lisbon was surprised, since she'd signed them in last night under her own name and Jane hadn't given any sign of recognizing their hostess. But then, he'd been distracted.

"Oh, not personally. Everybody around here knows what happened, though, poor man. Nobody should have to go through that." She paused, then said, "I don't give much credence to psychics and such, but my sister had a reading once, and she swore by him. So I knew who he was when I saw them once, out shopping. Such a beautiful little girl. I just don't know how anybody could do such a horrible thing."

Lisbon nodded, trying to keep her thoughts off her face. She didn't remember her encounter with the serial killer, but every time she tried to picture what it had been like, she shivered. There was no erasing the knowledge that she'd been at the mercy of a truly evil man, who had not so much spared her as tried to make her into a weapon against someone she loved. "Neither do I. I think that's a good thing, though. Thanks for the lovely breakfast."

"I hope tomorrow you'll feel well enough to join us downstairs," Mrs. Moreland smiled, then turned back to the sink.

Lisbon stood still for a moment. Tomorrow? They weren't going home today? What was Jane thinking? She'd thought he'd want to get as far from here as possible, back to their routines and hopefully the challenge of a new case to take their minds off this mess. She didn't know if she could stand a day of him straining at his ties to her, wanting to go off and brood some more. She absolutely hated that she was the cause of all this stress and pain, and he wouldn't even let her try to make it any better. If he could just let go of whatever was holding him back and find some comfort, some release, with her, maybe they'd both feel better.

As she climbed the stairs, she pondered her problem. He needed a distraction, and she doubted he was going to find one here. Why couldn't they go home and try for normal again? Of course, maybe the CBI wouldn't feel all that normal to him without his attic and his notes and his quest. He needed something to work on, something to sink his teeth into. If that wasn't going to be her, then—

Of course. Of course! She grinned at her sudden epiphany. She'd been going about this all wrong. He'd admitted he'd planned out how to seduce her years ago. He was resisting her because he wasn't ready to let go of his own plans. She needed to let him carry them out, which meant she needed to stop acting all needy and horny and go back to the person he would recognize. No more handholding—well, the bare minimum she could manage anyway—and no more playing along with his bizarre little pregnancy game. She needed to yell at him when he barged in on her in the bath, not just lie there wishing he'd join her. She needed to be herself again.

She straightened her shoulders and walked into their room, only to find her resolve sorely tested in her first glance around. Jane had finished his shower and was shaving, but he'd opened the bathroom door to help the mirror unfog while he shaved, wearing only a towel slung carelessly around his hips. Her mouth went dry. _Oh, that is just not fair_, she thought. _He acts like we're an old married couple, and I never even got my honeymoon._

He glanced at her, picking up her thoughts with annoying ease and grinning. "I liked being part of an old married couple," he remarked, turning back to the mirror and applying his razor with a steady hand. "You might too, if you let yourself."

"Maybe. We seem to be skipping an important step, though," she muttered, utterly failing to keep the sulkiness out of her voice.

"Patience, Lisbon."

She was glad that her annoyance at his patronizing tone wasn't lessened by the fact that he was standing basically naked in front of her, looking like a gift from the heavens. She latched on to her irritation, gritting her teeth against the almost uncontrollable urge to take hold of that towel and pull. "What the hell are you playing at, telling Mrs. Moreland I'm pregnant? She knows who you are, you know. She's really pleased you're getting a second chance. Little does she know it's the last thing in the world you want."

He looked over at her, only the speed of it betraying he was startled. His expression and voice remained calm. "Who says I don't want it?"

"You do," she flung at him. No, no, she needed to get off this subject. She was supposed to be acting normal, she reminded herself. "It's fine, Jane. I'll go see my doctor, get some sleeping pills of my own so you don't have to be camped out at my place at night. Once we get back to work I'm sure I'll get better anyway. Are you packed?"

He took his time wiping the traces of shaving cream off his face, and she felt a spurt of pride at having surprised him into showing hesitation. "I told Mrs. Moreland we were staying another day," he said.

"I know you did. But I thought maybe you'd lied to her."

"Why would I do that?" He splashed on some aftershave and turned to face her, showing no sign of wanting to get dressed.

"How the hell would I know? Why did you tell her I was pregnant?" she demanded. This was beginning to feel more normal, she assured herself. She just had to keep her eyes on his face and off the way the skin on his shoulders and chest glistened in the humidity. How the hell did he keep himself in such good shape, anyway, when he mostly seemed to brood in attics and lie on couches? That was one of the many mysteries about him she wanted to solve.

Face. She was supposed to be looking at his face. She got her wandering eyes fixed back on his, only to find him smirking at her. "For fun," he said.

"Oh, bullshit." She was seething now, though it was a toss-up as to whether it was mostly anger or lust. "You're trying to figure out how badly I'm damaged. If you can still trust me after what he did to me."

"There we go," he said. "Get it all out. That's why we're staying, though I'd prefer it if we moved our shouting match to the beach."

God, she wanted to hit him. But if she did, that damn towel would probably fall off. Wait, was that a good thing or a bad thing? She covered her face with her hands and tried to calm down.

Warm hands landed on her shoulders. "Breathe, Lisbon."

She angrily tried to shrug off his grip. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

He didn't let go, though. Was he trying to make her punch him right out of his towel? Was this his big seduction plan? She supposed there had always been a better-than-average chance that their first time would involve one or both of them being seriously pissed off. Oh, who was she kidding? It was always going to be her who was angry; Jane seemed to like making her that way. He'd always had a little masochistic streak. Maybe if she beat him up, he'd think it was foreplay?

"Okay," he said in his best soothing voice, "just keep breathing. That's good. There's no need to hit me. We don't want to get blood all over Mrs. Moreland's lovely white towel."

The thought of the grandmotherly lady downstairs, within earshot of any screaming that might occur, was enough to cool her heated thoughts. "Damn you, Jane," she breathed.

He sighed, and his warm, minty breath washed across her face, calming her further. "I think my damnation's already a given, Lisbon." He kissed her forehead gently, then guided her to the bed and helped her sit on the edge. "Now, let's figure out what that was about. Was that something new, or you just being your usual stubborn self and fighting what you wanted to do?"

"You sound like a goddamned psychologist," she muttered. She opened her eyes and was met with bare chest. Frustration washed over her again, and she demanded, "Either get into this bed or put some clothes on!"

He chuckled, so she kicked him in the shin, which provoked an indignant yelp and some hopping around. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he grabbed the towel before the hopping could completely dislodge it. She focused on calming down while he sorted some clothes out from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom. At least he had the grace to close the door this time.

When he emerged, he was transformed back into everyday, three-piece-suit Jane. She felt both regretful and relieved, but at least she was confident she could deal with this version of him. In keeping with her earlier resolution to be more like herself, she immediately attacked him with, "What was that about? Parading around half-naked when you have absolutely no intention of having sex with me? And if you say 'for fun,' you'll get blood all over Mrs. Moreland's carpet."

"That would be a shame; it looks like an antique," he remarked airily, going to sit in the nearest chair.

"You're punishing me because you had to sell your house," she accused.

He looked surprised. "If I am, it's not a conscious effort," he said after a moment. He tapped a finger against his lips, then added, "Unlike your attempts to appear your usual feisty self. Which I applaud, by the way. But they seem to be causing you some problems."

"I'm not going to let him turn me into a parody of myself," she declared. "I learned in a class once that one way to alter feelings is to alter behavior. Like smiling to cheer yourself up. So I'm going to act like myself until I feel like myself again."

"And that means keeping me in line and most decidedly not, under any circumstances, sleeping with me," he concluded.

She lifted her chin. "Yes. Were you hoping to make me beg?"

He winced a little at her razor-sharp tone. "No, Lisbon. That's never been what any of this is about."

"But you're testing me, probing at me. I hate it. I don't want to be manipulated anymore, Jane. I've had enough. So knock it off."

He nodded, but it seemed more like a confirmation than agreement. "I can understand that."

"Then explain to me what you're trying to achieve." She folded her arms and glared at him, just like she would if they were in her office and she was objecting to some half-baked scheme he was proposing.

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "He knew he couldn't pull you away from me, so he pushed you toward me. He probably figured it would be just as distracting. And in some ways, he was right. What I'm trying to do is keep us staggering around until we regain our balance. Because it wouldn't take much at this point for one of us to fall. And I'm not sure we'd be able to get back up."

"Try it again without the strained metaphor," she sighed. "I haven't had my coffee yet."

"We'll take care of that in a moment," he promised. "Here's the short version: he's forced us together, but he doesn't care about our long-term happiness. I do. I want to make sure the foundation we're laying doesn't have any fatal cracks in it."

It wasn't the foundation that had cracks in it, she thought, but the two of them. She took a deep breath. "I need to be sure this is something you actually want."

"Be a little more specific, Lisbon. What do you mean by 'this'?"

She struggled to define it, then realized in despair that if he were just going along with this until they figured out a way to free her from the planted suggestions, he couldn't tell her that without the risk of triggering something dangerous. There were some truths he just couldn't tell her, at least not now.

Jane was looking at her with something that was dangerously close to, but wasn't quite, pity. "Lisbon," he said softly. "I told you I loved you before this started, remember? And you told me you loved me, even though you were convinced I wouldn't live to hold you to it. Whatever doubts you have, hold on to those two facts. I believe we want the same things. We may just want them in a different order, or on a different timeline. But we will work it out."

She nodded. That was, of course, exactly what he'd say regardless of the truth.

He sighed, seeing he'd failed to convince her. Getting up, he came over and knelt in front of her. "Look at it logically, Lisbon: what the hell else do I have? If I walked away from you, what could I possibly walk toward?"

She swallowed. "Something that didn't remind you of him."

He blinked, surprised. "I don't think of him when I look at you."

"But we would never have met except for him. I'm always going to be associated in your mind with that part of your life. You'll never be able to separate how you feel about me from how he's making you feel right now. The good things will always be mixed with guilt and grief. How can I ever make you happy?"

"By helping me learn to let the guilt and grief go," he replied, laying a hand on her cheek. "Lisbon, do you know what I think about when I look at you? I think about how you loved me at my most unlovable, forgave me when I was unforgivable, and stood by me even though you knew it would all end in disaster. This isn't the worst way my revenge could have ended. Far from it. We're both still alive, and I'm not in prison. And I get to wake up with you in the mornings, which I'm finding addictive."

He got to his feet and pulled her to hers. "And now, coffee. You will feel better once you're not going through caffeine withdrawal."

mmm

The rest of the day felt like a vacation. At least Jane thought it did; it had been a very long time since he'd had one. Almost as long as it had been for Lisbon, he guessed. She seemed to have relaxed again after their talk, and he even got a little hand-holding in during their walk on the beach, until she remembered she was supposed to be acting normal and shoved hers into her pockets.

Because they had no social lives to speak of, they talked about work. They agreed to tell Bertram nothing except that they were giving up the case. Jane's suggestion that he justify his willingness to let it go by soliloquizing about his newly requited love for her was met with a firm smack to the shoulder, and she sounded completely like herself when she threatened him with permanent disfigurement if he tried "any of that romantic crap in the office."

"Please define 'romantic crap' so I don't accidentally end up in the hospital," he requested, trying to keep from laughing. "I know not to send you flowers. I have successfully given you jewelry at the office and survived, so that must be okay. The pony was well-received, so I assume farm animals are acceptable? A goat, perhaps?"

They were sitting on the beach, mostly hidden from view by a large rock. She punched him in the shoulder, but not so hard it hurt. "No farm animals. No clowns, no stripper-grams, no elephants or any other circus animals—in fact, no animals of any kind." She paused to think. "No singing telegrams or embarrassing spectacles. By my definition of embarrassing, not yours. No spreading rumors that I'm pregnant. In fact, no spreading any rumors about me."

"You are determined to suck all the fun out of my life," he said mournfully.

She shook her head. "Crime fighting isn't supposed to be fun."

"But life is. So I guess I have no choice: I will have to put together some sort of life outside the office for the both of us."

"I might be willing to give that a try," she said after a moment.

Jane slid an arm around her waist, resting his hand on her stomach briefly before she wriggled away from him. He smiled and said, "That's the spirit. Hungry? It's nearly teatime."

mmm

They went back to the seafood restaurant for dinner, but this time Jane made an effort to be good company. Lisbon was relaxed after their vacation day, and he enjoyed how her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The way she savored the chocolate mousse made him feel a little like a voyeur, but he hid his grin, knowing she wouldn't appreciate that observation even after two glasses of wine.

On their walk back to the bed and breakfast, she not only let him drape an arm across her shoulders but leaned into him. Apparently her resolve to keep him at arm's length had faded, at least temporarily. Which he was glad of, because he'd had time to think about it now, and he knew what he wanted to do.

Lisbon's accusation that he was punishing her had struck a chord. He was punishing himself, not her, but Lisbon was suffering because of it. She was interpreting his refusal to sleep with her as rejection, and that was making her question his feelings. He needed to put a stop to that.

Of course, being Lisbon, she'd chosen that day to reverse course and declare she had no intention of sleeping with him. But that was an obstacle he knew he could overcome.

He wondered if she would realize afterward that her attempts to act more like herself made her irresistible to him. It assured him that he wouldn't be taking advantage of her while she was in an altered mental state. Today she'd shown she was in control enough to exercise self-restraint, so he could trust that she would be making her own decision.

When they reached their room, he spun her around in a brief dance, making her laugh, and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She let out a squeak of surprise but melted against him, sighing into his mouth.

"Do you know why I wanted to stay today?" he murmured, nibbling his way down her neck.

"Mm?" She didn't sound like she was listening.

"To reward you for your forbearance."

She pulled back, looking suspicious. "You're not going to test my patience again by leaving me hanging, are you?"

He grinned. "What happened to being your normal, not-sleeping-with-Jane self?"

"I knew it." Her eyes flashed with anger. "You egotistical jerk—"

"I'm just teasing you," he assured her. "Do you want to change into that little scrap of lace you brought, or do I get the pleasure of undressing you?"

"Neither," she retorted, taking a step back. "In fact I think we should ask Mrs. Moreland if she has a room available for you, since there's no couch in here. Although the bathtub is plenty comfortable."

"Now that's just an empty threat, Lisbon," he chuckled. "If you insist, we can try the bathtub, but the bed would be so much more comfortable."

"I'm done sharing a bed with you."

"Up against the wall? Not my preferred location, but you weigh next to nothing, so I think I can manage." He was really having fun now. She was either going to kiss him or kill him in the next few minutes.

"Dream on," she scoffed, but he'd seen the way her eyes widened. He made a mental note of it.

Time to play his trump card. "I know your secret."

"Oh, right. Because I have no secrets from you." She rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

"Oh, there are still a few things I don't know. But I intend to find them out." He leaned forward, holding eye contact. ''Admit it: you find me irresistible."

She gave a half-laugh. "I seem to be resisting you just fine."

He took a step forward, causing her to back into the bed. "In your fantasies, the sex is always wild, abandoned. A little rough, even." He watched her pupils confirm his theory and smiled, feeling his pulse quicken with anticipation. "But in real life, you never let yourself go, because you never trust the men you're with enough."

She valiantly tried to deny it. "Why would I sleep with guys I don't trust?"

"Trust isn't an absolute, Teresa. For instance, you trust me with some things, but not with others. But in this case, you know perfectly well that I can read you like an open book. So you know that I'll be able to see exactly where you draw the line." He leaned forward as if to kiss her, while she stared at him, mesmerized. But he bypassed her lips and brushed his mouth against her ear, feeling her shiver.

His heart was beating way too fast, but he didn't have the attention to spare to slow it. Lisbon was breathing so hard she was almost panting. He could already feel how intense this explosion was going to be, once he lit the fuse. Any second now...

He breathed in her ear, "And you know once I've taken you right up to that line…as far as you think you can go…" He paused, drawing out the moment and delighting in the way she shivered. "I'll push you right over it."

She gave a little gasping moan and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down so she could kiss the smug grin right off his face. Ah, yes, he thought, kissing her back with equal ferocity. This was his best plan yet.

**mmm**

**This is the section that exceeds the T rating of this fic. Don't worry if you skip it—there are no plot developments for the rest of the chapter. You can wait for the next one without being confused. I'll recap the critical conversational points. :)**

**mmm**

If he pulled back now, Lisbon resolved, she was going to pull out her gun and shoot him. How the hell did he manage to do that with just his voice? He'd barely touched her, and she was desperate for him, fumbling with the buttons on his vest and wondering if she could just tear it off. Of course, then his shirt would still be in the way. Why did he have to wear so many layers? At least he'd managed to shrug out of his jacket, and his hands were sliding under her shirt, tugging it upward. But she'd have to stop working on those buttons for him to pull it over her head, and it was taking too damn long already.

Dammit, the bastard was laughing. "Slow down a second," he managed to say. "You're going to—"

There was a ripping sound, followed by the muffled sounds of buttons hitting the carpet. Jane yelped, "Lisbon! That was my favorite vest."

"Don't be such a baby," she scowled. "I'll buy you a new one."

"I don't want a new one," he protested, "I want–"

"God, Jane, shut up!" she commanded, starting to work on his shirt.

"Let me," he said, hurriedly unbuttoning. "Are you always this hard on a man's wardrobe?"

"Only when they're stupid enough to keep me waiting," she shot back.

Jane grinned at her as he shrugged out of his shirt. "You really do lack patience, Lisbon. And I'd like to point out that you're wearing more clothes than I am right now."

That was easy to fix. She pulled her shirt over her head and kicked off her shoes in one fluid movement, then hooked her fingers in his belt, yanking him against her and turning to push him onto the bed. He fell awkwardly, his hand making contact with the brass headboard with a metallic clink that riveted both their eyes on his wedding ring.

Lisbon wanted to scream with frustration. That was one thing she couldn't take off him, and it was probably the one thing he really couldn't be wearing when they did this. Oh, God, she didn't think she could stand it if he stopped. Ready or not, she _needed_ this.

His gaze lifted to hers. His eyes were unguarded for once, the beautiful blue almost swallowed by his enlarged pupils. For agonizing seconds, they stared at each other.

Slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, Jane brought his hands together and pulled off his ring, setting it carefully on the nightstand. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Remember what I told you this would mean."

_A_ _commitment_. Her body was humming, and she struggled to think straight. Could she do that? In a way, she'd been committed to him for years, she realized. And the courage he'd shown in making sacrifices for her over the past few days humbled her. How could she return anything less?

She knelt on the edge of the bed, bringing her face down to his and whispering, "I do."

He took her face in his hands and brought her mouth down to his in a searing kiss that sent a wave of heat down to her toes. She reached awkwardly around to her back, desperate to get her bra off and lay against him skin to skin. His hands closed over hers, and she let him take over that so she could get to work on his pants.

Once their clothes were out of the way, things went more smoothly. He rolled her onto her back and proceeded to drive her out of her mind with those beautiful long fingers, all the while murmuring in her ear.

"Are you going to talk the whole time?" she gasped out.

His chuckle in her ear made her shiver. "Yes. Because I want you to know it's me, every second. I'm not some guy you don't care about and just want a good hard fuck from. I'm the man you're going to be making love with for the rest of your life, and I want you to remember every moment of this. Because I promise you, I will."

She smiled at him, but couldn't resist teasing him a little. "So far it's mostly been a lot of chitchat. You gonna give me something worth remembering?"

"Patience, woman," he grinned.

"I'm out of patience," she moaned, arching against him. "Enough foreplay already!"

To her extreme annoyance, he pulled himself up away from her, reaching for the nightstand. She frowned when she realized he was opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. "We don't need that. I'm on the pill." She really thought he'd already know that.

"Oh? They're not in your luggage," he said, pausing to look closely at her.

She struggled to remember the last time she'd taken one, but she couldn't be sure. Jane leaned back down to kiss her, having finished his task. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I've got this covered. Literally. Until we decide what we want and when we want it. He doesn't get to choose that. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she whispered, feeling both disappointment and relief, but mostly desire.

"Then get ready, because I'm going to raise your standards," he warned.

She wrapped her legs around him. "Give it your best sho—ooooh..."

mmm

Afterward, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him as they tried to catch their breaths. She settled herself against his chest, and he used one arm to anchor her against him, freeing the other hand to stroke her long, luxuriant hair. He felt a little overwhelmed, realizing that he had forgotten more than he realized. Or maybe it was just that he'd never known a woman as long or as well before making love to her. Certainly Lisbon's utter abandon wouldn't have meant as much to him if he hadn't spent years looking for the signs that she was capable of it. He hoped he'd exceeded her expectations as well.

And he really hoped there wasn't a nasty surprise awaiting them now. With some trepidation, he asked, "You okay?"

She gave a little huff. "It would take a stronger man than you to break me."

Smiling, he replied, "You have no idea how grateful I am for that, Teresa."

Her finger began moving restlessly against his chest, signaling she was thinking about something. "Do you think this will help?"

He hummed a little in thought. "If I say yes, do I get invited back for an encore performance?"

"Consider it a standing invitation," she said, raising her head to look at him with her vivid eyes under sultry lashes. "Regardless of your answer."

He was powerless to prevent the delighted smile that took over his face. She returned it for a moment, then laid back down on his chest, her face hidden from him again.

"I think it will help, yes," he said. "Because I assure you I can't think of anything I would give this up to get."

"Good," she murmured. Her finger was still tracing random patterns on his skin. He knew she wasn't trying to arouse him, but he could feel his pulse starting to quicken again. Her next statement made his blood run cold, however. "I want to be the best consolation prize I can be."

He stopped stroking her hair and used that hand to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Don't say that. Don't even think it. You are not a consolation prize. Do you hear me?"

"Of course I am." She was trying to sound practical, but her voice was a little rough from the cries he had muffled with his mouth. It mimicked—or perhaps masked—emotion. "I'm not even your second choice, Jane. I'm third at best. If a genie appeared and granted you three wishes, you'd ask for your family back and for Red John to meet a gruesome end. I'm what you're settling for because you can't have those things."

"Since there are no genies, or time machines, or anything else that can undo what is done, I don't accept that as a valid argument," he said. "So, although you frequently console me, and you certainly are a prize, there is no possible fate I would choose over being with you. So you are not a consolation prize."

She sighed, stirring the hair on his chest and making him shiver a little. He said, "If you can be patient a few more minutes, I'll do my best to provide some hard evidence."

That provoked a snicker from her, and she slid her hand downward, seeking confirmation. 'It's a good thing I got some sleep last night, since I apparently won't get much tonight," she said approvingly.

"You will definitely be getting less sleep from now on," he said, "but on the bright side, you'll be eating much better."

He felt her grin against his chest. "I'm definitely working up an appetite. So there better not be any morning sickness nonsense at breakfast."

He kissed the top of her head. "Look at it this way: you have an excuse to eat twice as much, since you're eating for two."

"But no coffee," she grumbled.

"I will buy you a small vat of it once we're on the road," he promised.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **I humbly apologize to those of you who were disappointed in the M section of the last chapter! I guess I erred on the conservative side of the rating. I'll try to do better (or worse, depending on your point of view) next time. Meanwhile, back to the plot. And can I just say this week's episode almost made me wish this fic wasn't a Volker-free zone. Was glad to see the poker game again too, since I'll get back around to that eventually. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for sticking with this—reviews and alerts are better than chocolate!

**Chapter 17**

They were on the road by ten, after a large, delicious breakfast and a stop at the first Starbucks they encountered. Lisbon originally hoped to make it to the office before it got too late, but she hadn't reckoned with Jane's desire to check out every scenic overlook or fruit stand they passed.

"What is with you?" she finally asked, after they finished with their third stop. She knew she should stop indulging him, but seeing him happy was such a nice change, and she didn't want to ruin this day by sending him into a whiney mood.

"It's a beautiful day, Lisbon. Why be in a hurry to shut ourselves up in the office?" He flashed her a broad smile.

"Who says we'd be cooped up in the office? There might be a nice mysterious crime scene in a scenic state park waiting for us," she pointed out.

He gave a little laugh and reached for her hand. "True. But having rediscovered the joy of recreation, I find I'm not overly anxious to return to work. I'm enjoying that secretive little smile of yours every time you think about last night, and I'm sure once we're back at work, I'll mostly get pursed lips or frowns. Everything back to normal."

"Normal is good," she said, glancing over at him. "Isn't it?"

He lifted their clasped hands and pressed his lips against her fingers. "The new normal is good. The old normal...meh."

She couldn't contain her smirk. "The old normal led to the new normal, you know. Since the only way I could get you into bed was to read you the riot act and insist I wouldn't sleep with you, I'm thinking I need to continue being hard on you."

He looked closely at her. "Oh, so you're saying it was all your idea?"

"Mm hm." She was savoring this moment. She didn't often manipulate Jane without his being aware of it.

"Please," he scoffed. "You're taking credit in retrospect. While it's true that I needed to know you were fully yourself before beginning my campaign, that is the extent of your contribution to yesterday's happy ending."

"Yesterday morning I figured out that the reason I couldn't convince you was that you are a total control freak who wasn't going to do anything you thought wasn't your own idea. So I decided to let you carry out your longstanding plan to seduce me." She smiled. "I have to say, it was a very good one. It probably would have worked anytime in the past four years or so. Except maybe right after the whole Lorelei thing."

"It would have needed some amending at that point," he acknowledged.

"Like groveling," she said. "Or at least sincere apologies."

"I plan to make all that up to you," he said. "Shall I begin by letting you carry out your own longstanding plan to seduce me?"

"I don't have one. I'm your boss, remember?"

"Supervising agent. A slight but critical difference. And you can't tell me you never thought about it."

"Not enough to constitute a plan," she said. "You were really good at seeming untouchable for a long time. And after that, I was way too pissed at you."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "I can understand that, I suppose. Well, if you do have any requests, just let me know."

"Not a request so much as an observation. Regardless of whatever angry sex fantasies you may have, your bad behavior at work will have correspondingly bad consequences at home. And you should not take that as some kind of perverse challenge." She glanced at him.

"Message received," he said pleasantly. "I suppose I should warn you that one of the first things we have to do is meet with Bertram."

"Why?" she frowned.

"About turning over the case to the FBI. He wants us to convince him this isn't part of a scam. I think we should do it tonight or first thing tomorrow." He paused. "First thing tomorrow, preferably. I'll call and make an appointment." He gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it.

She listened in amazement as he did so, being perfectly polite to Bertram's beleaguered assistant. After he hung up, he said, "I'll make a big breakfast to fortify us. Any requests?"

"Since I won't need pancakes," she smiled slyly, "you can surprise me."

He smiled back, and they drove in comfortable silence for a while. But eventually Lisbon noticed Jane was fiddling with his wedding ring, which she'd found him staring at when she emerged from the bathroom that morning. She'd told him to put it back on to avoid questions from Mrs. Moreland, and he'd done so without comment. But that didn't seem to have put the matter to rest. She'd known it wouldn't be easy for him, despite the fact that he'd taken it off before they made love, reminding her that he was making a new commitment.

"You should wait until you're ready," she said.

"Hm?" He looked at her, then down at his hands. ''Ah. No, I need to start getting used to it. People will be looking for signs that I'm serious about giving up." He pulled the ring off and slid it into his vest pocket.

Her concern grew. "You don't have to do everything at once."

"I don't think it's going to get easier." He looked out the window. "And I don't want you to worry about it."

She pondered that for a few minutes. "I can handle it, Jane. You don't have to do this alone. I want to help. And that means not pushing you to do things you're not ready for."

"It's not you," he assured her. Then he gave her a brilliant smile. "Anyway, believe me, you are worth it."

She smiled back and let the subject drop. There was no talking to him about things he wasn't ready to discuss, she knew from long experience.

mmm

Lisbon spent some time in front of the mirror the next morning trying to make sure there was no evidence on her face that she'd just spent the second night in a row having mind-blowing sex with Bertram's least favorite person. She was sure Jane wouldn't give them away, at least not unintentionally—and if he did it intentionally, he better be ready to quit, because she wasn't giving up her job. Oh, God, what if he did decide to quit?

She didn't realize she had moved until she was halfway down the stairs, but by then the need was too strong to deny, and she continued into the kitchen to wrap her arms around him as he stood at the stove.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately, apparently feeling the desperation in her embrace.

"You aren't going to quit without telling me first, are you?"

"I'm not going to quit at all," he replied. "At least not in the near future. Lisbon, this meeting is just about convincing him to give the case to the FBI. I have no other goals." He pulled back to look at her. "Relax. There's no need to worry. He's not going to know that you're sitting there thinking about how we nearly broke your bed and what color we should paint the wall after we get done repairing it."

She felt herself blush despite her best effort. "Jane, behave yourself in that office, or else. And stop trying to make me blush!"

He grinned, giving her a quick kiss. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

She tried to summon up a glare. "Do better than that."

mmm

Bertram kept them waiting nearly fifteen minutes, so they sat on the leather couch in his reception area while the assistant tried to ignore them. Lisbon resolved to keep a normal distance between herself and Jane, but when she tried to figure out what that would be, she realized she had been sitting way too close to him for years. And he kept scooting closer. At one point, she suddenly noticed he had slid an arm behind her shoulders and elbowed him sharply. His startled "oof!" made the assistant look up, then roll his eyes.

"Stop that," she hissed.

Jane merely smiled in reply. Fortunately for her sanity, the assistant's phone buzzed, and after he hung up he said, "He's ready for you. He has a nine o'clock with someone important, so please be as brief as possible."

"Thank you," Lisbon said firmly, cutting off whatever Jane was about to say.

When they were seated in front of his desk, Bertram leaned back in his chair and regarded them both with an expression that managed to be both suspicious and resigned. "So what's this all about?"

Jane said, "We've decided to give the Red John case to the FBI. They want it, and we're not getting anywhere with it."

"Really." Bertram obviously didn't believe a word.

Lisbon said, "The FBI has resources we don't. They have Lorelei Martins, and with the case files they'll have a better chance at catching him."

"So you're both just going to give up?" Bertram said incredulously.

"It isn't important who catches him, as long as he's caught," Lisbon said reasonably. "And my team is too close to the case. It'll be better for us not to have it." She felt the words catch in her throat and hoped it didn't show.

Bertram grimaced at her and turned to Jane. "And you? I have no doubt you're behind whatever ill-advised scheme this is."

"I agree with Lisbon."

"So that's it." Bertram tapped a finger on his desk. "You just give up your obsession with Red John, which you've endangered your job, Lisbon's job, and the entire bureau's reputation for, just because Lisbon suddenly thinks her team can't handle the case."

"I didn't say that!" she protested reflexively.

"This was my idea," Jane said. "I've let him ruin my life for far too long. I have other things I want to do. And this has become much too personal. It's time to have fresh eyes on it, give Red John new people to think about. He's gotten too used to toying with me. He's responsible for Wainwright's death, and he asked for Lisbon's. It's getting too dangerous. We need to step back."

"I'm not saying it's not a good idea," Bertram said. "Let the FBI keep it on their unsolved list instead of ours. But if we give the case to them, we can't get it back. And I won't try. This is not reversible. Do you understand that?'

"Yes," Jane said impatiently.

"Yes, sir," Lisbon added in a placating tone. "We won't ask you to try to get it back."

Bertram took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "And you won't pull any dirty tricks on the FBI—or any of its agents—to get it back?"

"We don't want it back," Jane told him.

"No dirty tricks," Lisbon promised. "Even if Jane changes his mind, we won't assist in anything that would endanger our good relations with the FBI. I speak for everyone on my team."

Bertram gave a little snort at "good relations" but was only partly sarcastic when he said, "Very reassuring."

"Look," Jane said, "what would convince you? I'm happy to do whatever is necessary to demonstrate my sincerity." He reached up to scratch his nose with his left hand, and Bertram's eyes widened as he noticed the absence of Jane's ring.

Lisbon realized Jane hadn't been concerned only about moles, but also this meeting. His determination made sense now. She couldn't figure out if she was reassured or worried that his decision to take his ring off again really hadn't been about her.

Bertram was thinking hard. "How about this: If I find out you're sniffing around the Red John case after this, you're out of the CBI. No excuses, no appeals. Both of you."

Lisbon knew better than to look at Jane, but it took a real effort not to. "Yes, sir," she said with a calm she didn't feel.

"Agreed," Jane said.

"No second chances," Bertram warned. "The first time the FBI complains to me about you, you're done."

Jane said, "I think I have to insist that there be some evidence of wrongdoing on my part. I don't have any friends in the FBI, unfortunately."

"That seems reasonable," Bertram sighed. "Very well. And speaking of friends in the FBI, Agent Mancini's funeral is tomorrow afternoon, Agent Lisbon. I'll approve leave for you to attend."

"Thank you, sir," she managed to say, hoping her dismay looked like grief. She got to her feet, wanting to get out before Bertram noticed anything odd about her reaction.

Jane stood too, pausing behind her on his way to the door. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate this. You won't regret it."

"Time will tell," Bertram grumbled. Then his eyes widened in shocked realization.

"Yes, it will," Jane said, squeezing the arm he'd slid around Lisbon without her noticing.

Crap, he had his hand splayed across her stomach again! She knocked it away, heading for the door in blind fury.

She didn't trust herself to speak until they were in the elevator, which they mercifully had to themselves. The moment the doors closed, she punched him in the stomach, hard enough to hurt but not damage. He doubled over with a gasp of pain, unable to speak for a moment.

"So that's what your stupid game was about," she hissed. "You were getting me used to you touching me like that so I wouldn't notice when you used it to make Bertram—our boss!—believe I'm pregnant!"

He nodded, rubbing at his stomach with a pained expression. "And now he has a good reason to believe I'm serious about giving up."

"And what's he going to think when I don't actually have a baby?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "By then it won't matter. Come on, Lisbon, it was either this or the truth. Would you rather go back in there and tell him the real reason?"

"No," she muttered. "God, what if he thinks it's Mancini's?"

"He's not allowed to ask you," Jane pointed out. 'That doesn't make it that much less convincing, though. I'd want to protect you and the child no matter who the father was."

She snorted, folding her arms. "You are not going to pull that crap on the team."

"No, why would I? They know the truth." He managed to straighten up as the elevator doors opened.

mmm

Lisbon's fury lasted impressively late into the day, and Jane realized it was going to be a long night indeed if he didn't persuade her to forgive him. He was getting used to a few hours of blissful post-coital sleep and had no desire to give it up.

Before he could come up with a campaign to reduce her anger, his phone rang. It wasn't a number he recognized. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jane? Barrett Denton here."

"Ah yes, Mr. Denton. What can I do for you today?"

"I have great news. We've received an offer on your house for the asking price!"

Jane blinked. "Really? That was fast."

"Apparently the buyer's had his eye on it for some time and was thrilled to find it on the market. I can overnight the paperwork if you'd rather not come back down here."

"Yes. That would be fine. Thanks." Jane hung up on Denton's cheerful good-bye. Then he looked around the bullpen, where three pairs of eyes were watching curiously. Jane affected a cheery tone. "Well, good news! It appears my house won't be hard to sell after all. Afternoon coffee run is on me. Grace, fancy a latte?"

They congratulated him and put their orders in, and Jane escaped as quickly as he could. It wasn't as if he couldn't guess Lisbon's order, after all.

mmm

"Where's Jane?" Lisbon looked around the bullpen curiously. It had been days since she'd had to ask.

Cho said, "He went for coffee to celebrate selling his house."

"Celebrate what?" she asked, shocked.

"He got an offer on it," Grace said.

Lisbon took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Jane was in no way ready to actually sell his house, and the fact that he hadn't told her couldn't be good. "Great. Let me know when he gets back."

She went back to her office and sat, biting her lip. Then she picked up her phone and found the newest entry in her contact list. "Mr. Denton? Teresa here. Patrick just told me the good news, but he didn't have any details. I was hoping you could fill me in."

He was only too happy to do so, and minutes later she was back in the bullpen. "Grace, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Boss. I'd be happy to," Grace replied, surprised. "What do you need?"

"A quick background check." Lisbon handed her the sticky note she'd jotted the name down on.

"On Rufus Forster? What am I looking for?"

"He claims to be a real estate investor. I want to make sure he's on the level."

"No problem. Is this about Jane's house?"

"Yeah. Don't spend a lot of time on it." Lisbon hated asking for favors, especially on CBI time.

"It won't take long," Grace smiled.

mmm

Lisbon was enormously relieved when Jane appeared with a large, delicious coffee, making sure their hands brushed as he gave it to her. "Thanks. Hey, I heard about the house. You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He moved toward the door.

She frowned. "I was thinking I don't have any real reason to stay late tonight, but—" She wrestled with how to ask him his plans. "Should I borrow a sleeping pill?"

His hesitation lasted only a second. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Teresa," he said with a wink. Then he was gone, leaving her to puzzle out his behavior.

mmm

Jane sipped a calming cup of tea and then pretended to nap. There was no point being upset, after all, he told himself. He had no choice. There was no reason to turn down an offer for the price they'd set; no excuse to delay by negotiating, even if he wanted to. He could look over the paperwork but he doubted he'd find any reason not to sign off on it. And in some ways it would be a relief to get rid of the place and stop paying the enormous property tax bill. Especially since in its place he got to sleep in Lisbon's bed. Now that she was worried about his state of mind, he was no longer in any danger of being kicked out tonight, he realized.

He just...hadn't had time to really wrap his mind around it. Even though the worst moments of his life had occurred there, a lot of the best ones had too. He wasn't ready to face never going through that door again, remembering how Charlotte's laughter had echoed off the walls and how Angela had obsessed over paint colors.

But this wasn't about him. This was about ensuring Lisbon's safety. A house was just a house, in the end. A thing. It couldn't compare with her sweet kisses and the sleepy smile she gave him in the mornings, not to mention the other lovely things she did in bed.

Oops. He should not be thinking those kinds of thoughts lying on a couch in public view. He took a deep breath and worked on some biofeedback, keeping an ear on the bullpen to make sure nobody was too close.

Grace inhaled sharply, then gave an uncertain "Huh."

"What's up?" Rigsby asked.

"I found something I didn't expect."

She sounded unnerved, so Jane opened his eyes and sat up. Rigsby and Cho had gone over to look at her computer screen, and Cho looked over his shoulder at Jane. "You better come see this."

Jane reflected that he never saw anything on Grace's computer that made him happy. It was all mysterious videos or downloads or instant messages from untraceable sources. He resigned himself to more of the same as he hauled himself off the couch, straightened his jacket, and took the few steps to lean over her shoulder. "What am I looking at?"

"Rufus Forster, the guy who made the offer on your house? He owns a couple of real estate investment firms. Including Cut Iron Properties, Inc." Grace pointed it out, as if his eyes hadn't been drawn there immediately. For a moment he was back in that dusty basement with Tanner pointing a gun at him, talking about how this was the old family place. Cut Iron Properties' purchase of the farm had been the clue that had gotten them so close to Red John that time.

"Erase that," Jane said angrily. "Make it look like you never saw it. Who told you to look into this?"

Grace looked taken aback. "Lisbon did. What's the matter?"

"We are no longer on the Red John case." Jane knew he was coming across harshly, but he didn't care. "In case it has slipped your minds, that is because he will kill Lisbon if we keep investigating him. If you value her life, forget you saw that. When she asks, tell her you found nothing."

"Lie to her?" Grace was appalled.

Rigsby said, "But you're not really going to sell your house to Red John, are you?"

Jane wanted to strangle someone, fists clenching. He shouldn't have to explain this, dammit. "Yes, I am. Because if I don't, he'll know we know it's him. And I'm not risking Lisbon's life for a house. Or anything else. And if I find out any of you are doing it, I will make you regret it. Bitterly."

Cho nodded. "Erase the search," he told Grace.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Rigsby looked at her face and then at Jane. "Take it easy, man. She couldn't have known. I mean, how twisted is that, buying your house?"

"He's testing my resolve. And this won't be the only test," Jane snapped. "We all have to be careful. Next time Lisbon asks you to do something under the table, clear it with me first."

Cho, Rigsby, and Grace exchanged meaningful looks. Cho said, "She'll kill us if she catches us doing that."

"Doing what?" Lisbon asked, walking up behind Rigsby, who jumped.

"Lisbon, a word please." Jane jerked his head toward her office. She frowned but followed him, passing him when he stood aside to let her precede him into the room. He closed the door behind them, then started yanking the blinds closed.

"Jane," she protested.

"Don't worry," he bit out. "I have no intention of seducing you in the office."

"Just starting rumors," she retorted, going around her desk to sit in her chair.

"Just giving us a modicum of privacy for what is sure to be an unpleasant conversation." He settled a hip on the corner of her desk, forcing her to look up at him. She made a face at him to let him know she was onto his attempt to intimidate her and that there was no way in hell it was going to work. "What the hell were you thinking, Lisbon?"

"I'll tell you what I'm thinking right now. I'm thinking this is not an appropriate way for you to speak to me," she said. "What have I done that you object to? We've barely spoken all afternoon."

"You had no business telling Grace to look into the buyer for my house. It's not related to a case, and it's not your house."

He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, but she didn't back down. "I admit my interest is purely personal. But you have no moral high ground to lecture me about using CBI resources for personal ends."

"Maybe not," he said. "But selling my house is a sensitive topic. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me handle it. I don't need your help."

"That isn't what you said while we were there," she reminded him. "Jane, I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but I was just trying to help."

"When I need your help, I'll ask."

He could see her trying to hold on to her temper; her impulse was always to strike back when hurt. "Fine. I'm sorry I upset you. I won't do anything about your house unless you ask me to."

"Thank you." He tried to calm down. "If you don't mind, I'll knock off a little early today."

She nodded, searching his face in concern. "Sure. I think that's a good idea."

There was an entreaty in her eyes that he couldn't resist, so as he got to his feet he said, "Don't work too late. I feel like cooking something spicy."

She was so relieved that she didn't protest at all when he leaned down to kiss her, not even when he parted her lips with his tongue and plundered her sweet, warm mouth. Apparently he was allowed to behave outrageously when she thought he needed comfort, he was pleased to note. He had a feeling he was going to need her comfort—and her understanding—very much in the days ahead.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **I continue to be in awe of those of you who are so generous with your time and encouragement, even those of you who suspect I might be a bit of a closet sociopath. :) I'll take that as a compliment, since I'm really a boringly normal person. And I'm not taking any credit for Red John—that one's all on Mr. Heller! I could never have invented such a twisted character on my own. I hope. Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

**Chapter 18**

One of the pleasures Jane found in this new life was seeing how far he could entice Lisbon from her routines. The next morning, he was a little surprised at how easy it was to keep her in bed after her alarm went off and then to talk her into showering together, with predictably enjoyable results. They were going to be very late, and he knew it was going to cause comment. But Lisbon didn't seem to care, which was very unlike her.

"What's the matter?" he whispered into her hair as she hugged him at her door, one last embrace before they went out into the world pretending to merely be friends.

"I don't want to go to the funeral," she admitted after a moment.

He pulled back, realizing that she was wearing all black today. She often wore dark colors, so he hadn't assigned any particular meaning to it until now. "You're planning for us to go?"

"Not us. Me," she said. "You despised him, and everyone knows it. If you went, everyone would be trying to find a reason."

"I can't support a friend in her grief?" He didn't like this at all. "At least take someone. Grace, maybe."

"I can actually do things unsupervised," she complained, opening the door. "It will only be a graveside service, so it won't be long."

"Drop me off at my motel so I can pick up my car, then," he asked.

"Where are you planning on going?" She looked worried as they walked to her car.

"I might need to overnight the paperwork back, or something," he replied. "Don't worry, I will be on my couch when you get back from the funeral."

She nodded. "I know you don't want my help, but I'd feel better if you waited to sign anything until I'm there. Just...just for moral support. I know you don't want to do this."

He wondered what she would do if she knew the truth about the buyer. He hoped she never found out, though. There was no need for her to feel any worse than she already did. "All right. I'll be glad of your support. I always am."

"Liar." She grinned briefly at him as she started the car.

"Do you have to go to the funeral? It's not like you really cared about him."

"I started out trying to build goodwill with the FBI. I might as well at least try to keep that going."

He spotted the lie easily. "What's your real reason?"

"You can't tell? I thought I had no secrets left."

She was deflecting. He frowned. "If we hadn't agreed to some pretty dire penalties if we did any investigating on the Red John case, I'd think you were going to see who else turns up."

Her silence told him he was right.

"It's not worth it, Lisbon. Even if Red John himself turned up, he wouldn't identify himself to you. And he and all his friends know that we know what Mancini was. Your going to the funeral will look suspicious, like we aren't keeping up our end of the deal." He reached for her hand. "Teresa. Please think about this. Plead illness, or work, or anything, but don't go to the funeral."

She sighed. "Do you really think this is a bad idea or are you just worried I can't handle it?"

"I really think it's a bad idea," he said truthfully. "We need to keep well away from anything we think is possibly connected to Red John." He noticed the clear signs of a headache forming and squeezed the hand he held. "Including saying his name. Sorry, love."

"No endearments when we're not at home," she scolded.

He smiled. "Who's going to hear us in the car?"

"No one. But if we get in the habit, one day we'll be riding with one of the others and we'll slip up."

"Lisbon, they've seen us kissing. None of them are under any illusion that we're just coworkers."

"Still," she said firmly.

"And you are not off the hook. I am still waiting to hear that you have decided not to go to the funeral," Jane prompted.

"I'm still thinking about it," she replied.

He felt a spurt of anger, but he knew better than to think she would respond positively to that. "Lisbon, I have gone through a great deal trying to salvage something—salvage _us_—from this mess. I implore you, do not make it all in vain by continuing to look into things that are better left alone."

She glanced at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. He held her gaze, letting her see how much he meant it.

"All right," she sighed. "It's not like I wanted to go. I'll have to find some excuse though."

He grinned at her. "I suggest you be emotionally overwhelmed, and I'll take you for a nice long lunch break."

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was contemplating. "Who's going to believe I was emotionally overwhelmed? We barely dated. We'll have to hope we catch a case."

"Rather than hoping for some poor soul to get murdered in a timely fashion," Jane said, "I could be the one having an emotional crisis. I'll even have paperwork as a prop."

"Now that we can sell," she agreed.

mmm

As it turned out, they caught a new case before Jane even got to the office, and they ended up spending the day two hundred miles from Sacramento interviewing the victim's friends and coworkers. Lisbon was grateful for the ironclad excuse to miss the funeral, as well as to put off the house sale. Mid-afternoon, Jane got a call from Denton and explained the situation, only to find out that the offer had a three-day response requirement. So at least they had some time. It made her wonder if the buyer knew that Jane had an erratic schedule. Maybe Denton had told him.

When Van Pelt called to relay some research, Lisbon said, "By the way, anything turn up on that real estate guy?"

"Uh...Jane didn't want me to look into it," Van Pelt said. "I hadn't gotten very far but he, um, seemed clean. No record. Do you want me to keep digging?"

Lisbon did, but she'd told Jane she'd leave it alone. "No. Never mind. Thanks. Since it's getting late, we're staying the night, but we'll be back tomorrow if nothing breaks."

"Let me know if you need anything," Van Pelt replied before saying good-bye.

Lisbon sighed as she put her phone back in her pocket. She'd been worried about Jane being able to let go, but it seemed she was finding it difficult as well. Maybe Grace and the others were too. She made a mental note to give the team a pep talk when they were all back in the office. It was never easy to let go of a case you'd worked so long, and Grace had a personal reason to want Red John caught. Jane wasn't the only one for whom this was a sacrifice, and she hated being the reason for it. The realization that it was a sacrifice for her too helped only a little.

On the other hand, Jane's house wasn't technically part of the Red John case anymore. Or was it? The idea took her breath away. What if Jane had been angry because Van Pelt had found something? She'd sounded uncertain on the phone. Maybe she'd lied, and she wouldn't do that just because Jane told her to. She'd have to agree with his reasoning.

But Jane wouldn't tell her if she asked him. And it worried her that there was now this huge, important part of his life he felt he had to keep away from her. That wasn't exactly a healthy thing for a relationship. Or for him.

It was late when they finally went to their hotel. Cho and Rigsby went straight to their rooms after agreeing to meet at six the next morning, leaving Lisbon and Jane to negotiate their sleeping arrangements.

"So." Jane stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels, his casual air completely false.

"So." There was no need to make this easy, since he thrived on a challenge, she thought. "You should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's another long day, most likely."

"Yep. You should too." There was an underlying amusement in his tone that told her he was in no doubt about where he was sleeping tonight. "Do you need me to share my sleeping pill supply?"

She was tempted to call his bluff, the smug bastard. But only tempted. "You know how I hate pills."

"Yes." He grinned at her. "There are better ways to fall asleep. We could play a few hands of poker and sip chamomile tea. Or I could lull you to sleep by reciting all of Shakespeare's sonnets in chronological order."

"As long as you don't think there's risk of permanent coma in that last one," she said, pretending to consider. Having Jane whisper sonnets in her ear actually sounded like a great way to pass a few minutes in bed until they found something better to do. At least she'd taken the precaution of getting a room well away from Cho's and Rigsby's.

"I assure you," he said, "you will sleep like a baby. Eventually." They began walking toward her room, and he added, "If the sonnets don't do the trick, I can expound at length on various theories about the identity of Shakespeare's dark lady."

"I was just thinking I needed a good lecture on the sex lives of English poets." Lisbon rolled her eyes and kept walking until she reached her door.

Jane moved up against her as she inserted the key card. "I assure you," he whispered in her ear, "he didn't love his dark-haired lady more than I love mine."

"You think you're a pretty smooth operator, don't you?" she smiled as she pushed the door open, yanking on his lapel to pull him in after her. Then she pushed him against the door to close it, kissing him deeply.

When they broke apart for air, he said, "I don't need to be, since you've already decided how this night is going to go. You wouldn't let me leave even if I wanted to. Hey, you don't get to ruin this vest too! I still haven't gotten the other one repaired."

They struggled briefly, and she snickered at his attempts to simultaneously knock her fingers away and unbutton his vest. "Stop making me sound needy," she commanded. "I'm not."

He stripped off his jacket and vest, smiling. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Are you going to talk like that all night?" Really, he talked more in bed than all the other men she'd been with combined. "Because it's been a long day and I'm tired."

He chuckled, his fingers going to work on her blouse. "I know you secretly like me talking to you, hearing how my voice gets deeper and rougher, those little tremors I try to suppress but can't, until you finally make me incoherent and the only word I can gasp out is your name."

She couldn't control her shiver. "My last name, usually," she teased him breathlessly, unbuckling his belt.

"Fair is fair, Teresa. You haven't managed to call me by my first name even once. I don't think you're even trying." His grin as he helped her out of her blouse told her he didn't mind that much.

"Maybe I just need more practice." She kicked off her shoes.

He gave her an alarmingly mischievous grin. "Maybe you need incentives. I could stop whatever I'm doing every time you say my last name instead of my first."

"Don't you dare." She summoned up her best glare. He was maddening enough in bed without turning it into some bizarre training session. "My turn on top."

He swept her a bow, then jumped onto the bed to sprawl on his back, wearing nothing but a wide, anticipatory smile. "As my lady wishes."

mmm

Lisbon was pulled out of a deep sleep by Jane urgently calling her name. It took her a minute to realize he was dreaming, and she whispered, "I'm right here, Jane. It's all right."

His breath hitched, then stopped for a long moment. She was about to wake him when he drew in a huge gulp of air and let it out in a sob, reaching out to pull her against him, clutching at her desperately.

"Jane? Are you awake?" she asked, sliding her arms around his neck. "Jane?"

He let out a long, shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm awake. Sorry." But he didn't loosen his grip.

"Bad dream?" she asked as he tucked his head against her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah."

She pressed a kiss into his hair. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He kissed her neck, and she felt his stubble scrape against her shoulder.

"Okay." She moved a hand to comb through his curls and gently massage his scalp, hoping to relax him. He was tense, still breathing hard, and she bet he had a fair amount of adrenaline in his system. "It's okay. Just a dream."

About Red John, she guessed. And her, given the fact that he'd called for her and was hanging on to her so tightly. The sad thing was that it probably wasn't an unusual thing for him to dream about; this was just the first time he'd done so since they started sleeping together. "We don't have to worry about him anymore, Jane. Remember? You made a deal with him, and we're safe."

"Right," he muttered against her skin. "Because his word is so trustworthy."

Oh. Of course. Jane was worried he'd make all the sacrifices he could think of to keep her safe, and then Red John would kill her anyway once he had nothing else left. That would be a pretty effective way to destroy him. "Are you worried we didn't think this through enough?" It was something that worried her; Jane had started down this path in the aftermath of panic, and she hadn't been thinking clearly enough to help him or slow him down.

He pulled back to kiss her mouth. "No," he said. "What was there to think about?"

"Oh, come on, Jane. Maybe we could have come up with a better plan than to just give in and do what he wants."

"No, we couldn't. Not with an acceptable risk." He began raining quick little kisses on her face, and she felt the tension in his body change. It seemed she was about to discover what comfort sex with Jane was like.

"We should tell the FBI you're selling your house. They may want to look into it, just in case." She hitched a leg up over his hip to let him know they were on the same page.

"No!" He pulled back and let out an exasperated huff. "Lisbon, what will it take to get it through your stubborn little head? That will look like we're still interested in the investigation. Let the FBI figure it out on their own."

"Okay," she said, anxious to calm him down. But she made a mental note to mention it casually at the next poker game. Hopefully that would be enough to set the FBI on the trail without it being directly connected to them. "You sure you don't want to tell me about it?"

"Nothing to tell," he said hoarsely, rolling her over on her back and thrusting into her.

It was a little uncomfortable, but she was still pretty wet from their initial coupling, and he quickly used his fingers to help her catch up. He didn't last long, and she left her arms and legs wrapped around him, hoping that would help him fall back to sleep.

She was almost back to sleep herself before she realized neither of them had thought to use a condom.

mmm

The next day, Jane woke to find Lisbon already in the shower, the little coffeemaker by the sink gurgling away. He was surprised he'd gotten any more sleep after his nightmare, but waking up to find her right there, safe, went a long way toward dispelling his fear. It certainly worked better than brooding until she made it into the office and he could see that she was all right. Though he'd want to raise the bar on the comfort sex next time. She hadn't even come. And—shit, he'd been in such a hurry to get inside her that he'd totally forgotten the condom.

She knew it, too, he realized as he caught his first glimpse of her. She was fully dressed, which he found disappointing—he'd hoped for a reappearance of the robe if she had to wear anything at all. But it didn't look like she'd gotten back to sleep after his nightmare.

She smiled at him, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "Good morning. You're welcome to the shower, unless you'd rather go back to your room."

"All my stuff is there, so I have to opt for the walk of shame," he replied. "Sorry I woke you last night."

Her expression changed to concern. "It's all right. I just...I know you think you can't talk to me about any of that. But I hope you'll talk about it to somebody. Cho, maybe."

"I'll think about it," he said, sliding out of bed and beginning the hunt for his clothes while she poured herself some coffee. When he had his pants on, he looked at her again, noting the strain on her face. "Hey. I'm sorry for being careless, too. Are you okay?" Because even if Red John had put the idea of having a baby in her head, he was certain that hadn't been part of her original intentions for them.

She took a sip of her coffee, trying to construct a reply. "I am if you are."

He shrugged on his shirt and went to her, resting his hands on her waist as he kissed her. "I loved being a father. But I don't want to bring any more lives into this situation until I'm sure he's finished with us."

"I know," she whispered. "I feel the same way. But if—"

"If it doesn't turn out that way, I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you are both safe," he assured her.

"I know." She tried to reassure him with a smile. "Hurry up, or you'll miss breakfast."

mmm

The case looked like a long slog, Jane thought. It didn't help that he felt distracted, and Lisbon was too. Just when he hoped they might be finished with this depressing little town for now, Lisbon surprised him. "I'm going to look over the witness statements again," she announced. "Jane, you go look at the crime scene again. Take Cho with you."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you get into trouble when I let you out on your own," she replied.

"No, I meant why go to the crime scene again?"

"Because you barely looked at it yesterday, and I don't want to drive down here again when you realize that." Lisbon folded her arms and dared him to argue with her.

"Fine." He knew what this was about, and it was pointless to resist. So he got into the car with Cho and stared at the scenery until they reached the little patch of trees where the victim had been found. Then the two of them looked around, Cho giving Jane his space. There was only one direction that could be fairly said to have a pleasant view, and Jane ended up staring out at it, thinking.

Eventually Cho came to stand beside him. "You see something?"

"Not yet."

Cho gave it a few more minutes before saying, "I'll be in the car."

"Hang on." Jane grimaced, then said, "Lisbon thinks I need someone to talk to about Red John, since it can't be her anymore. She suggested you."

"Okay." Cho unfolded his arms and nodded. "Makes sense. I don't do hugs, though."

"Glad to hear it."

After another silence, Cho prompted, "You got anything you need to say?"

Jane contemplated his options. He was briefly entertained by the thought of Cho's expression if he said _I may have knocked up your boss last night._ But that would end up causing needless and unamusing trouble. Anyway, he calculated that the odds of conception, given his knowledge of Lisbon's cycle, were slim. He settled on a less controversial but still true statement. "I don't want Lisbon to worry."

"So if she asks, you want me to tell her we talked."

"In a nutshell."

"Okay." Cho looked around a moment more, then said, "If you ever do need to talk, I'll listen. It can't be any worse than listening to Rigsby talk about Van Pelt. Just one condition."

"Which is?" Jane was both amused and horrified by the implication that he would discuss Lisbon with anyone.

"If you ever make me picture our boss in an unprofessional way, I may have to hit you."

"Fair enough. That's nothing compared to what Lisbon would do if she thought I was discussing her in an unprofessional way," Jane grinned.

They walked back to the car, and once they got in, Cho added, "She's going to ask me if I think you're going to do anything stupid. If I tell her no, you won't make me a liar, will you?"

"I never do anything stupid," Jane informed him. "But to answer the question you meant to ask, I am not conning you or her. I'm doing my best to honor the deal. Whether Red John intends to do the same is the question."

"Yeah." Cho drove in silence for a few miles. "This deal doesn't really include the rest of us."

"Yes, it does. Because he won't believe I'm not behind any digging you do. If you value Lisbon's life, don't risk it."

"Okay."

Jane rubbed at his eyes. He wanted a nap, but the sheriff's office was sorely lacking in couches. Maybe on the ride home. "I know it's tempting to think he might be getting sloppy while he's taunting me, but any clues he leaves are on purpose. He wants me to go back on the deal, to know that I killed her out of selfishness. It's not going to happen."

"We're with you," Cho assured him.

mmm

It was late by the time Lisbon got home. She hadn't wanted to leave Jane at the office, but they couldn't be seen leaving together all the time. And he'd handed her the unopened FedEx package on her way out, so at least she didn't have to worry he was trying to deal with selling the house on his own.

They needed to get it over with, though. They couldn't keep being distracted. Though she was proud of herself for handling their separation well today—in fact she had hardly noticed him being gone until he'd called to check on her on his way back—they weren't up to their usual standards, and she didn't want to let this affect their case closure rate. They needed to get back to normal. She needed to get back to normal and stop leaning on Jane so much. Especially now that he felt he couldn't lean on her in return.

She thought that was one of the hardest things for her to accept. Being Jane's sole confidant was a role she valued; Jane was such a perceptive and discriminating judge of character that she had taken his trust as no small compliment. She was glad to know he loved her, but she was grieving for the loss of his trust when it came to Red John. And she was not at all sure they could build a future without his full trust. If their new relationship fell apart, and they couldn't revert to being trusted friends, what would be left for them?

Her attempt to compensate by enlisting Cho, someone else Jane could trust, had the unpleasant side effect of making her feel excluded. It had only occurred to her after the two men had returned, but she couldn't expect Cho to betray Jane's confidence by reporting to her. She had to accept that there was now a conspiracy of silence surrounding her, for her own good. It galled her, and it made her worry that it would affect her ability to lead the team.

She could get over this, she assured herself. Knowing that the team didn't talk to her about a case they weren't investigating was something she could learn to live with. In time, Red John and all they'd done to try to catch him would fade into the past. Maybe not soon, and certainly not easily, especially for Jane, but it would happen eventually.

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction, and she hurried to open it, only to find a bottle of champagne being waved in her face. She took it so she could get a glimpse of Jane. "What's this for?" she asked.

"Why Lisbon. We're celebrating, of course. Half the building knows I've had a terrific offer on the house. By now even Bertram's probably heard. Tomorrow I plan to bring in a huge box of gourmet pastries so everyone can celebrate with me."

"And who, exactly, are you trying to fool?" she asked softly, closing the door behind him.

"Whoever's looking," he replied. "You haven't read it yet?" He picked up the cardboard envelope, still sealed.

"It's not addressed to me," she replied. "Do you really plan to drink this?"

"Yes. But not until after dinner. While I cook, do you mind looking that over to make sure I'm only selling the house and not everything I own?" He went into the kitchen and began assembling ingredients.

"Sure." She sat down on the couch and ripped the envelope open, then began to read. Listening to many minutes of chopping sounds, she hoped Jane was taking out some of his frustration on her cutting board. Then she heard sizzling and realized that a stir fry was probably fitting, given his mood.

After dinner, Jane insisted on uncorking the champagne. As she accepted her glass, Lisbon said, "If you want something stronger—"

"I'll let you know. But it's harder to be a morose drunk with champagne," he said cheerfully. "A toast, my dear."

She held up her glass. "To what?"

"The end of an era?" he suggested.

Lisbon shook her head. "To the bravest man I know."

mmm

Jane didn't feel the least bit brave as he sat at Lisbon's table and contemplated the pile of papers with the helpful "sign here" sticky tabs. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. Maybe the third glass of champagne had been a mistake.

"Can I borrow a pen?" he asked.

Lisbon handed him the pen she carried to take notes with, but he gave it back. "Something disposable?"

She went to the kitchen and spent some time rummaging through a drawer, then came back with a cheap ballpoint with teeth marks on the end. She seemed embarrassed as she held it out. "Will this do?"

"Perfect," he said.

She hovered uncertainly for a moment, then said, "I know you hate it when people stand over you. Just yell if you need me."

"Thanks." He gave her a genuine smile, grateful for her perceptiveness.

It was harder to do than he'd thought. It was just signing his name, and in many places just signing his initials, but he couldn't keep from thinking about what it meant, how excited he'd been when he'd filled out the paperwork to buy the house, and how, somewhere probably not far away, Red John would gloat when he saw these penstrokes, knowing what they had cost him.

Another thought struck him. The money he would receive as a result of this sale would be Red John's. The thought of using it to buy someplace to live made his stomach turn. No. He would find some other use for that money, and he'd start fresh. He'd think of some way to explain it to Lisbon, or else he'd go amass a down payment at a casino somewhere so she'd never notice.

"You okay?" she asked gently, noticing that he'd stopped.

"Fine," he said, but he knew his voice gave him away. She wouldn't come close until he invited her, though; he could always depend on Lisbon to appreciate the need to lick his wounds in private.

The last signature was the hardest, and it took him a long time. The page had water spots in a couple of places when he was done, but he didn't care. Let Red John know he had wept over this, but still done it. Maybe it would be enough for him, dissuade him from torturing them further.

He straightened the papers by banging the bottom edges on the table, the noise startlingly loud in the silence. Then he shoved them into the pre-addressed cardboard envelope that had been folded up with them, tore off the protective strip over the adhesive, and sealed it shut with a trembling fist.

"Where's the nearest dropbox?" he asked, when he was sure his voice would be steady.

Lisbon looked up, and even across the room he could see the pain in her eyes when she saw his expression. "The shopping center two blocks over."

"The one on Cedar?" He got to his feet.

"Yes. Do you want me to come—" She broke off as he shook his head.

"I could use a walk. I'll be back shortly."

mmm

The walk did seem to do him good; he looked more himself when she opened the door to him this time. Lisbon was more relieved than she wanted him to know. It had occurred to her more than once that perhaps this time he wasn't coming back. There was more than one way to give up, after all.

She'd put some water in the tea kettle, so she went to turn on the heat. He looked like he needed a cup of tea. She'd even unpacked and washed some of her mother's china cups and saucers so he wouldn't have to use a mug. Though in his current state, she wasn't sure he'd notice.

But when she set the steaming cup of lapsang souchong in front of him at the table, he inhaled deeply and smiled up at her.

"I threw the pen out," she said. "And then I realized it was time to take the trash out, so I did that too." Among several other household chores, but she wasn't going to mention the fierce scrubbing she'd given the bathroom.

"You are peerless among women, Teresa," he sighed, lifting the cup to his lips and sipping.

He didn't want to be touched, she could see. She might have put the good sheets on the bed for no reason. Deciding to leave him to his thoughts, she went in search of more tasks to keep herself from becoming too anxious. Dusting or vacuuming would be too distracting to him, she thought. Laundry probably would, as well.

Her eye caught on her holster, where she'd set it on the coffee table earlier. She could clean her gun—that would pass a few minutes quietly, and it needed done. She gathered her supplies on the coffee table, since her dining room table was currently occupied, and unholstered her gun.

"Lisbon!" Jane's shout startled her, and she snapped the muzzle up toward the ceiling once she failed to spot any immediate danger.

"What—" she began as he crossed the room and grabbed her wrist.

There was a brief struggle; Jane was stronger than he looked. She was afraid he'd break her wrist without realizing it, caught up in whatever madness had gripped him. Despite her desperate attempt to break free, their battle ended with the gun pointed at Jane's heart, safety off. Lisbon froze, shocked, as he snarled, "If you're going to fire that, you better point it right here."

She barely dared to breathe. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said gently, "Jane, I want you to slowly and carefully remove your hands so I can put the safety back on. I'm not going to fire my weapon. I promise."

He was breathing hard, but the crazed light in his eyes faded, and he stared at her for a moment before releasing his grip.

Lisbon put the safety back on and quickly unloaded the gun, setting everything back on the coffee table before straightening back up to demand, "What the hell was that? You could have been killed!"

"I—I thought you were—" He blinked, then swallowed. "What were you doing with your gun?"

"Cleaning it," she snapped, her fear heating to fury. "What did you think I was doing?"

He rubbed at his face. "I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry."

How could such a smart man be such an idiot, she wondered. "You thought I was going to shoot myself with you sitting across the room? God, Jane! You know me better than that! If I was going to shoot myself—which I told you before, I think is a sin—you'd never find me until it was too late. And your solution to my supposed suicidal impulse is to make it into a murder/suicide? Are you out of your mind?"

"I think I might be, a little, yes." He dropped to the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Lisbon tried to calm down, but she wanted to strangle him. Did he think her mental state was really so fragile? Why on earth would she kill herself just because he'd sold his house? She felt bad for him, but she didn't think she'd blighted his life or anything.

"Next time you drink three-quarters of a bottle of champagne I'm going to handcuff you to something," she muttered. "We apparently need to have a very serious conversation, but I can see you aren't in your right mind. Go drink your tea, and—" She looked over to find tea puddling on her table. "If you broke my mother's china I will break your fingers!"

"I don't think I did. I just put it down a little hard. Your mother's china?" Jane looked over at the table.

"I know how you despise mugs," she said.

He shook his head. "I am sorry, so sorry, Lisbon. Just...can we forget this night ever happened?"

"I'd love to, given how hurtful I find your lack of faith in me," she retorted. "But tomorrow, when you're sober and I no longer want to kill you, we will talk about this. And about what will happen to you if you ever, ever try to take my weapon off me again."

He looked miserable. She stared down at him, unsure what to do. She was honestly afraid to banish him to the couch in his current frame of mind, but she didn't feel like climbing into bed with him as if she didn't want to scream at him at the top of her lungs.

"It's not a lack of faith in you," he said slowly. '"I'm angry and worried, and I want to tell you why but I can't. I feel trapped, but not by you. You're the last person I want to hurt, but you're the person I'll always hurt the most, because despite everything, you care about me. I'm sorry."

She dropped to the couch, letting her breath out with a whoosh. "Van Pelt lied to me, didn't she? The buyer's connected to Red John somehow."

He frowned and looked away. Lisbon gaped at him. "And you still went through with it? Jane!"

"What was I supposed to do, Lisbon? Let him know we knew, or let him think I wasn't serious? I wish Van Pelt hadn't found the connection, or hadn't told me, but she did. So I did what I had to do. And I hope you've learned a lesson about going near anything to do with him again."

Lisbon realized that she had inadvertently made this much worse for Jane. "I'm sorry. God, Jane. I didn't mean to make this harder. If I hadn't asked Van Pelt to check him out, you wouldn't have known."

"I think I would have suspected. You did, after all. It was just too fast. He wanted us to know."

"He's not finished with us." She felt panic welling up inside her and pushed it down.

"Maybe he will be now." But Jane didn't sound hopeful.

God, she wanted to touch him, but he was still hunched over defensively. She understood now why he'd panicked; he was frustrated and depressed, and he projected that onto her. Well, she was frustrated and angry, but not depressed. "Jane. I don't know what to say. I don't know what I could ever do to deserve what you did."

He finally met her eyes. His were red and watery. "Lisbon, don't you get it? You already did it. All the times you stood by me, helped me, risked your job for me. For years. It's my turn. It's just...coming in a concentrated dose is all." His mouth tugged into a wry line. "And I'm not being as graceful about it."

She needed to touch him now. Reaching out slowly, she rested her hand lightly on his knee. "I'm sorry this is happening. And I love you."

It wasn't easy for her to say, and he knew it. He took her hand in his.

"We will find our way through this," she tried to reassure him. "And I don't care what you think he put in my head, but I am not leaving you. Not by shooting myself, or poison, or anything else. This is not some Shakespearian tragedy. Tell me you understand that."

"I do," he said after a moment.

The words reminded her how they had committed to each other when he took off his ring. "Will you promise me the same?"

"I'm not leaving you either," he said. "Not for anything. I never want to go through that again. Ever."

"Good." She let out a long sigh. "Let's get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

They were halfway up the stairs when he said, "And if someone shows up with security camera footage of me beating up a FedEx dropbox, you won't let them arrest me, right?"

"Jane," she sighed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

She was greatly disturbed when he didn't offer any suggestions. When they reached her bedroom, he simply sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. Lisbon went about her bedtime routine, taking her time, until finally she ran out of things to do and came to stand in front of him.

After a moment, he looked up. "You're getting better. In another week you'll be ready to kick me out."

His eyes belied his teasing tone, and she frowned at him, crossing her arms. "What, is that your way of saying you're tired of cooking for me?"

He reached out and tugged lightly on the hem of her jersey. "There's nothing about you that I'm tired of."

"Good. Because I'm not ready to give up my personal chef. You can't sleep in your suit; get ready for bed."

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close so he could bury his face in her jersey. She stroked his hair and said softly, "It's going to be all right."

He let out a gusty sigh, then got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in this chapter! I always know I've taken too long when I get reviews asking for an update already. I'll try to write faster, but no promises—we're gearing up for a big meeting at work, and I'll be out of town at the end of the month. I don't think I'll be finished by then, but I'll do my very best to leave it in a non-annoying place. If it's any consolation, ideas always come to me at the worst possible moment, so the busier I get, the more ideas for scenes I get. Maybe I'll just give up sleeping. It works for Jane, right? :)

**Chapter 19**

Over the next two and a half weeks, Jane managed to act normally most of the time, though Lisbon, watching closely, noticed more of an edge than usual in his interactions with others. He had bad nights whenever anything to do with the house sale demanded his attention, and Lisbon was relieved when Denton arranged things so that Jane wouldn't have to go back to Malibu for the closing.

That momentous event was still two days away when she greeted the appearance of her period with a relief she hadn't felt since college. Not coincidentally, she'd gone on the pill right after that scare. This time, she resolved to go back to taking it regularly no matter what her subconscious thought about it. Jane was probably one crisis away from a serious mental breakdown, and she was relieved that impending fatherhood wasn't going to be it.

Jane was downstairs cooking breakfast, as he did on all but his very worst days, so she dug her next pack of pills out of her medicine cabinet and took them with her to the kitchen, setting them on the counter next to the sink. "I want you to make sure I take these," she said. "I know I won't be tempted to skip if you're watching."

He looked at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the skillet, where a fragrant omelet was cooking. "I was always watching. But I will be happy to help, even knowing you will react badly if I confront you."

Lisbon made a face, but she couldn't argue. It was never easy for her to give up a piece of her privacy. Suddenly finding herself in a serious relationship was taking some adjusting. In a way, Jane's forays into self-loathing and depression made things easier: that was familiar ground, though she wasn't used to having it in her living room on a nightly basis. It helped distract her from the fact that he had rearranged her kitchen cupboards and taken over the grocery shopping, which meant that her guilty pleasures were in short supply. In return, she had started doing his laundry, but since she drew the line at ironing his shirts, he usually ended up taking them to the dry cleaners anyway. Despite Red John's twisted set up, they were not and never would be a fairy tale couple.

And Jane seriously needed a hobby. He had hours to fill that he'd previously devoted to thinking about Red John, and even he could only read for so long. And if Lisbon had to watch one more show about cheetahs, she was going to start thinking about where to hide her kill.

She'd urged him to begin looking for a house once, remembering his bitter declaration of intending to fade into suburban obscurity, but he'd snapped at her that he had no intention of keeping Red John's money. A few days later she'd asked if he wanted help researching charities to donate to, and he'd said nothing. That had been a bad day.

She loved him, but she didn't know how much more brooding she could take in her immediate vicinity. Even at the office, he no longer had his attic setup, and he didn't like to be in the bullpen, claiming he could feel the waves of pity coming off the others. So he tended to camp out in her office. At least she knew where he was, but she was getting to the point where she really wanted to miss him a little.

He hadn't come to bed at all one night, probably pacing her apartment or occupying her couch, so she knew she no longer needed him to get to sleep. But every time she was tempted to suggest he go back to his motel, she found she couldn't, afraid he'd take it as a rejection. And even though he rarely let her comfort him overtly, she didn't want to take away whatever comfort he got from being near her. Or from having sex with her, though that was regrettably no longer a nightly event.

She hoped he wasn't going into an all-out depression, because the chances of getting him to see a doctor about it were nil. All she could do was try to keep him busy and make sure he knew he was loved, even if sometimes that was the last thing he wanted.

"What are you thinking so seriously about?" Jane asked, handing her a plate with a spinach and mushroom omelet.

"You," she replied, setting the plate down so she could pour another cup of coffee.

"Hm. That's not the smile I usually associate with you thinking of me," he teased.

It looked like this was going to be a good day, she thought hopefully. They settled at the table, and she took a bite of her omelet. "Mm. This is perfect."

"You need the protein and iron," he said. "You're pale. That was how I first learned to spot when you started your period."

She didn't ask how long he'd been keeping track; he'd probably been doing it since the first month they'd met. "It saves so much time not having to tell you things," she remarked. Like the fact that she wouldn't feel like having sex for the next few days.

"Yes, I imagine so," Jane agreed.

His tone seemed normal, but there was something in his expression that made her wonder if she was missing some subtext. "Are you trying to tell me that you wish you didn't have to tell me things?"

He grinned a little, then took a sip of his tea. "No. Believe me, most of the time you don't want to know what's in my head."

"And the rest of the time?" She was genuinely curious.

This time he gave her a full-blown smile. "The rest of the time, you're very good at knowing what I want."

"You're in a good mood this morning," she said. Especially given that he'd been gone when she woke up briefly around 2 a.m.

"It was a beautiful sunrise. Made all the more beautiful by my getting to watch it light up your face while you slept."

"Oh, so that's why my curtains were open when I woke up." She wasn't sure how she felt about him watching her sleep, but if it made him happier, she would learn to live with it.

"Mm hm." He finished his tea and stood. "I need to pick up some things on my way to the office, so I'll see you there."

He bent to give her a peck on the cheek, and she drew a breath, summoning her courage. "Do you want to check out and just bring everything here?"

"Why Agent Lisbon, are you asking me to move in with you? Officially?"

She felt a flash of annoyance at his teasing tone, then realized the look in his eyes wasn't amusement. It looked like—nervousness? She wasn't sure she'd ever seen that look before. "Agent Lisbon would never ask her consultant to officially move in," she replied. "Particularly if they'd only been dating for a month. If you can call it dating. But luckily for you, Agent Lisbon hasn't reported for duty yet, and Teresa is having a moment of weakness."

He smiled again, making her wonder when exactly she was going to build up some immunity to it. Surely her stomach would stop fluttering at some point, though it had already been years. Maybe at the decade mark? Or twenty years?

"Have I ever mentioned how much I love your moments of weakness, Teresa?" Then he sobered. "Are you sure? I know I can be a lot to take, and I thought you'd about had enough."

"It's silly for you to pay for a room you aren't using, except as storage." She shrugged, trying to seem casual. "You can always get another one if you decide not to stay."

He sat back down again. "I expected you to throw me out once you realized you didn't have to have me around anymore."

"You think I was just using you?" she said, appalled.

"No," he assured her. "Not at all. But I thought you'd want to prove you could stand on your own two feet as soon as possible, reclaim your territory. I know it drives you crazy that I moved the plates closer to the dishwasher and the glasses over the sink. Even though you know it makes more sense that way."

"What really drives me crazy is that you didn't ask first," she retorted.

"And you think you're ready to have me rearranging your closet and medicine cabinet to make room for my stuff?" He looked skeptical. "No, you don't. You think—ah. You think I am the one who shouldn't be alone. You're worried if you tell me to leave you alone for a while, I'll sink into a deep depression, thinking you don't love me."

"No," she said.

"Yes. Yes, this is Saint Teresa in action. I'm driving you crazy, but you're too busy taking care of me to admit it." He sat back in his chair with an air of satisfaction at having figured her out.

"I haven't lived with anybody in a long time, so it's going to take some getting used to. But you hold up your end of the household chores, not to mention helping me get to sleep. I think I can handle it." Because she really did like having him around, she assured herself. Most of the time.

"I'll tell you what," he said slowly. "I would like to move the rest of my stuff here. It'll be more convenient, and I think it's what he expects us to do. But you need to promise me that if you need a night to yourself, you won't be afraid to tell me. I'm a big boy; I can take it. I can sleep on my couch at the office or get a room for the night."

"Not at the office. It'll make the gossip worse," she said. "But otherwise, okay."

"What gossip?" His eyes lit with amusement.

Lisbon rolled hers. "Don't pretend you don't know. I overheard two idiots in the ladies' room yesterday discussing the fact that I must be pregnant because I've gained so much weight."

"You have not!" Jane exclaimed, offended. "You've been eating healthier, that's all. They're seeing things."

"My point was," she continued, "I'd like to keep the talk about us to a minimum."

"I will do my best," he promised.

She took a long sip of coffee. "And while we're having a serious talk, I'm interested in what you think he's going to want from us next. Besides admitting to ourselves that we're living together."

His automatic glance at her was annoying, but she met it with calm determination. She wanted to prove to him that she was her old self and that he could tell her his thoughts about anything. She needed assurance that he wasn't going to keep things from her because he thought she couldn't handle it.

She continued, "Do you think this was just about getting us off the case, or is he trying to turn us into his own personal reality show?"

"His primary aim was to get us off his trail," Jane said slowly. "Whether because I was close to a clue or because he was serious about retiring, I don't know. I hope it's the latter, frankly."

"So do I," Lisbon said fervently. One of her nightmares was what would happen if Red John killed again.

"But he may have discovered he likes pulling our strings," Jane continued. "Lorelei told me he sees me as an old friend of sorts. Maybe in his twisted way he wants to see me happy before he says good-bye."

"And what would it take to make you happy?" she asked.

Jane frowned at the tabletop for a moment. "Besides you? That's a good question. But it can't be all about making me happy, because selling him my house is definitely making me unhappy."

"Maybe he's just trying to make sure you made the right choice," Lisbon said. "I can't make you happy if I'm not really what you want."

"You are really what I want," he assured her.

"But not all you want. That's okay, Jane," she hurried to add. "We don't get everything we want in life. But...I've been thinking. He underestimated me, you said. He probably thought I would give in to those worst impulses he brought out in me, that I'd be desperate to keep you with me."

A corner of Jane's mouth lifted. "Says the woman who just invited me to move in with her."

"I won't collapse in despair if you don't, though. And I won't try to get pregnant to tie you down, or any of the other things I won't admit to thinking. Whatever else has happened, I am still your friend, and I want what's best for you. And letting him—Red John—go isn't." She gritted her teeth against the headache; that was one thing she hadn't been able to overcome with sheer willpower.

Jane got up from his chair. "I'm not having this discussion again, Lisbon."

"But you said I was in danger only from what he put in my head. If I've overcome that, then there's nothing to stop—"

"I never said 'only,'" Jane snapped. "Yes, I think you've overcome everything we know he put in your head. But the deal still stands. If he decides I've broken it, there's nothing to stop him sneaking in here one night and killing you. From killing us both, because I've told you before, I can't survive losing you. So please stop talking—and thinking—this way. I'm doing what I have to do, not just for you, but for me. Let me do it."

He strode to the door and left, closing it firmly behind him. Lisbon finished her omelet in silence, thinking hard.

mmm

Jane wasn't the only one surprised when Lisbon announced she had a management meeting that afternoon and that Cho should take him to interview their latest victim's family. Since it was more than a two-hour drive each way, that meant a very long day, or even a night away. Still, he'd promised he would understand if she wanted some time alone, so he acquiesced without argument.

Once Lisbon left for her meeting, though, Cho looked around, frowning. "I have something to do here," he said. He looked at Rigsby, then at Grace. "Van Pelt, can you take this one?"

"Sure," Grace said, always eager to get into the field.

Rigsby looked sulky. "More rapid response team stuff with Agent Wade?"

Cho ignored him. "Thanks, Van Pelt. I'll square it with Lisbon when she gets back. Let me know if you find anything."

Jane realized he was out of tune with the rest of the team, since he hadn't been spending much time in the bullpen lately. He was vaguely surprised to realize he missed them a little. "So," he said, once he and Grace were in the car, "catch me up on all the gossip. I take it Rigsby's put out over Cho's extracurricular activities?"

Grace smiled. "Poor Wayne. He's like a high school kid whose best friend made the football team and he didn't. He'll get over it though."

"He should be glad. Cho's ready for his own team, and everyone knows it. But the rapid response assignment will keep him from getting restless," Jane pointed out.

"You should tell him that," Grace said. "He'll put more stock in it if it comes from you."

Jane pondered Cho for a moment. He was glad the man was so loyal to Lisbon; otherwise Jane would have to find a way to scotch any possibility of his advancement for the time being. Until Red John left them alone, they both needed Cho where he was.

Grace continued, "The biggest rumor is that the boss is pregnant. We keep telling everyone it isn't true, but you know how people are."

"I do know how people are. And they know how we are. It's no secret we'd all lie to protect Lisbon," Jane pointed out, amused.

"If we thought she was pregnant, we'd keep her out of the field," Grace said indignantly. "That's how we know she isn't—you'd have found some way to keep her out of that standoff last week if you were worried about a baby."

"You're quite right, Grace." He'd been scrutinizing Lisbon on and off, looking for signs of pregnancy when he wasn't wallowing in self-pity. He'd seen none, so he wasn't surprised when her period started. What did surprise him was that his relief didn't keep a little voice from whispering in the back of his mind about how clever, headstrong, and beautiful their child would have been.

"You're not the only one who can figure things out," Grace grinned. Then she sobered. "Everything okay with you two?"

"We're figuring it out," Jane replied. He knew she had only the best intentions, so he didn't resent her asking, but he had no intention of discussing his relationship with Lisbon.

"I won't pry," she promised. "I've just been worried about her. About both of you, but I know you won't tell me about what's going on with you. She seems better—is she really?"

"Yes."

"Whatever he did to her, it's gone?" Grace persisted.

"I think so."

"How?"

Jane smiled. "Sheer Lisbon stubbornness. He hasn't been watching her as closely as he thought. Or else he didn't understand what he saw. Lisbon isn't like the people he's used to dealing with, banal and self-absorbed, ruled by emotion. She decided what she needed to do and she did it, even if she had to fight herself all the way. Most people avoid uncomfortable truths about themselves, but she refused to tell herself a pretty story about what was happening."

Grace was smiling too, probably amused by the pride in his voice. "I wish I was more like her."

"We all have to be ourselves, Grace. The best we can do is not lie to ourselves about what that self is." It was something that had flitted across his mind lately: was his vision of himself distorted? Because he wanted to be the man he saw reflected in Lisbon's eyes, but he wasn't sure he believed in him.

The silence that followed wasn't a comfortable one; he'd stirred something up in Grace's mind, he realized after a moment. He waited for her to speak in her own time.

"I am someone who doesn't want Red John to get away with his crimes," she said quietly. "Especially what he did to the boss. Because maybe the killing is part of a sickness, but doing that to her was just plain evil. And then buying your house—that's just, that's personal. All you did was talk about him on TV. You didn't deserve what he did in return, and certainly not everything he's done since. I want him to pay for it. All of it. I don't know what would be enough, though."

"Nothing," Jane said. ''Nothing could ever be enough. I used to think I just needed to cut him up and watch him bleed to death."

Grace muttered, "I want to shoot him in the balls, myself."

"In the highly unlikely event we ever meet him, I'll let you go first, then," Jane said gallantly. Although it occurred to him that if he got that much blood on his hands, Lisbon might object to being touched by them. Vengeance she might forgive—she'd certainly come around to his side quickly after he shot Timothy Carter—but cruelty she might not.

But it was all moot. He'd given up any chance of ever avenging his family to save her life, because he was too weak to go on without her. He couldn't even hate himself for that, because Lisbon was worth any sacrifice he had left to make. She had certainly sacrificed for him. He had a lot to make up for in how he'd lived his life, and he couldn't think of a better way to do that than making sure the world still had Teresa Lisbon in it.

mmm

He and Grace spent an excruciating afternoon and evening talking to the victim's family members, who were variously weeping or angry. Those conversations led them to call on several other people who were in contact with the victim, which eventually led to an ex-boyfriend who had recently friended her online and was cyberstalking. By the time they tracked him down at a bar and finished talking to him, it was late. Since Jane suspected he'd been sent on these tedious interviews to get him out of Lisbon's hair, he didn't object when Grace tentatively suggested they drive back in the morning.

Once in his lonely, nondescript hotel room, he wasn't surprised he couldn't sleep. Apparently he'd grown used to having company at night, and the bed felt cold and uninviting. Lisbon didn't answer her phone when he gave in and called, but that might just mean she was busy. She'd call him back when she could, no matter how late.

An hour later, he was still telling himself that. It occurred to him that it was Thursday, but surely she hadn't gone back to playing poker with all those people who had watched her flirt with Mancini? She'd hate their pity.

Well, she'd told him to talk to Cho if he couldn't talk to her. She could hardly complain if he actually did it.

But Cho didn't answer his phone either.

Jane paced for a few minutes, tried both numbers again, and then went to knock on Grace's door. "Grace, it's me," he called.

Grace finally opened the door, having hastily thrown on a sweatsuit, he judged. She frowned at him in concern. "What's wrong?"

That's right, she wasn't used to being rousted out of her bed by him in the middle of the night. That was Lisbon's job. "Lisbon and Cho aren't answering their phones."

"And you think they're in trouble?" Grace turned to grab her phone, leaving the door open for Jane to follow. She dialed quickly, smiling in relief when her call was answered. "Rigsby, do you know where Lisbon is? She's not answering her phone, and Jane's worried."

Jane frowned in annoyance. Really, there was no call to make him sound like an anxious boyfriend.

"Oh, okay. Hey, where's Cho?" Grace continued. "Really? That's great. Yeah. See you in the morning. Give Ben a kiss for me." She hung up, then smiled reassuringly at Jane. "Lisbon's fine. She's playing poker. And Cho has a hot date."

"Must be hot indeed to turn off his phone," Jane grumbled.

"They're fine. Go to bed," Grace said.

The kindness in her tone set his teeth on edge; she sounded like she was indulging a frightened child. He gave a put-upon sigh and headed for the door. "Sorry I bothered you," he said, not quite succeeding in keeping the sulkiness out of his tone.

"It's okay," she replied.

He paused in the doorway, trying to put his finger on what was bothering him. Grace gave a sigh and looked at him suspiciously, then said, "You want to go back tonight."

"I'm not going to sleep anyway. I can drive, and you can sleep," he offered.

"She's not going to like it," Grace warned.

"My problem, not yours." He pulled out his best smile. "Come on. We can be home by one a.m. Wouldn't you rather sleep in your own bed?"

She gave him a look that said she wasn't fooled. "I was doing fine," she said. "But okay. It's sweet that you can't bear to be away from her even for a night. Needy, but sweet."

He grinned at her, refusing to be baited. "Keys?"

"When I'm packed. I don't want to get stuck here because you got impatient. Now shoo and let me get dressed."

Jane went back to his room. He had never undressed or unpacked, so he didn't have much to do. Fortunately, Grace was a fast packer, and in no time they had checked out, packed up, and gotten on the road.

They were halfway to Sacramento when Jane's phone rang. Grace took it out of his hand and answered it, ignoring his protest. "Hi, Boss. Yeah. Jane's driving. We're about an hour out."

"Ask her if she's won enough money yet to take me away from all this," Jane prompted loudly.

Grace couldn't help a chuckle at whatever Lisbon said in response. "Yeah, the ex-boyfriend looked good, but he had an alibi. No, not that he's told me. Hang on." She pulled the phone away from her face a bit and said, "Boss wants to know if you've solved the case yet."

"I'm pulling over," Jane said, finding this secondhand conversation deeply unsatisfying. When the car was safely stopped, Grace handed over his phone, smirking at him.

"Lisbon," he said heartily. "So, how was the game? You won, I presume?"

"Jane, why did you get Grace out of bed in the middle of the night to drive back here?" she demanded.

"Who says I did?"

"Because it's late, and she let you drive," Lisbon replied. "If you say you were worried about me, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Hardly, Lisbon. I just can't go to sleep anymore without one of your sweet lullabies." He made his tone as suggestive as possible and was rewarded by Grace covering her mouth and looking out the window, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Jane." Lisbon was not at all amused. "I'm not in the mood for your nonsense."

Hm. Maybe she really had been trying to get rid of him. "Is that your way of saying you don't want to see me until morning?"

She sighed. "If you wake me up when you get in, you better be prepared to make it up to me."

"Lisbon, you saucy minx, you're making me blush in front of Grace," he reproved. "Let's leave the demands for sex for when we're alone, shall we?"

"Jane!" she hissed. "Goddamn it. You know what, find somewhere else to sleep. And apologize to Van Pelt for your inappropriate behavior while you're at it."

Jane looked over at Grace, who was still looking out the window. He could see her expression in the reflection, though. She was both amused and appalled, so he said, "Grace, I apologize for making you uncomfortable. Lisbon was not demanding sex, as I'm sure you've guessed."

She managed a straight face as she looked at him. "Apology accepted. If you're done being a jerk, can we go? We have to be at work in the morning. Later this morning, I mean. And some of us aren't allowed to nap on the job."

"There," Jane said into the phone. "Am I forgiven?"

Lisbon sighed. "Ask me again after breakfast."

"Just leave your order on the notepad by the fridge," he smiled. "Sweet dreams, Teresa."

After he hung up and started driving again, Grace said, "You're terrible. You know that, right?"

"You are not the first person to point that out," Jane replied. He decided not to insult her intelligence by telling her that he would never tease Lisbon like that except in the presence of someone they could both trust.

Grace leaned her head back and closed her eyes, apparently trying to fall asleep. After a few miles, she said, "Do us all a favor and send her into the office in a good mood, okay?"

Jane grinned. "I'll do my best."

mmm

Lisbon was tired, but she couldn't manage more than a light doze, waking at every little noise. It had been years since she'd stayed awake waiting for someone, and she was a little annoyed that she was doing it now. Part of the point of tonight had been to test herself, to make sure she really was capable of being alone. But as usual, Jane wasn't cooperating with her agenda.

It was a little after one a.m. when she heard the front door open, immediately followed by the sound of keys hitting the little table by the door. Jane was familiar enough with her apartment by now that he didn't need to turn on any lights to make his way up the stairs, and she rolled over on her stomach so she could see the door as he came in.

"It's me," he said unnecessarily.

"Figured," she yawned.

"Go back to sleep." She could hear the smile in his voice as he shed his jacket and headed for the bathroom. A few minutes later he returned, bending to pull her hair away from her neck so he could press a kiss there before sliding into bed. She hummed a little in acknowledgement and relaxed, hoping she could finally get to sleep now.

She was surprised when he moved closer and slid an arm around her waist, sliding over until they were flush against each other. He'd become gradually less snuggly over the past weeks, and she wondered if he was expressing affection or seeking comfort. Or maybe both.

"Did something happen?" she murmured. He didn't drive back here in the middle of the night on a whim, she suspected.

"I just missed you," he replied.

She smiled. "I missed you too." And it was true; she hadn't enjoyed having the bed to herself nearly as much as she'd thought she would. And the apartment seemed too quiet without him now. Maybe she was adapting to him living here after all. She gave him a gentle kiss, opening her lips to him at the first tentative touch of his tongue.

"Mm, whisky," he said when they parted. "How much did you have to drink tonight?"

"Just enough to convince Bertram I'm not pregnant," she replied.

He huffed out a short laugh. "I guess that rumor served its purpose. How was the game?"

"I won some and lost some. All anybody wanted to talk about was Mancini. I'm glad that's other with," she sighed. "Did you find anything useful?"

"I want to sleep on it," he said. "And it turns out I don't seem to be able to do that except here."

"Then here is where you belong," she said.

He was silent for a long time, and when he spoke again his voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion. "I'd forgotten what that felt like, to have a place I belong."

She rolled to her side and put her arms around him, and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and planted a kiss there. Minutes later they were both sound asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: **I have never sold a house, only bought one, so please forgive any glaring errors I've made in that process. Thanks to all of you who continue to follow and give feedback—it's inexpressibly valuable in the writing process, I've found!

**Chapter 20**

After completing the last piece of paperwork and handing over his house keys, Jane sat back and closed his eyes. There was no need, he told himself, to dwell on the emotional aspects of what was, after all, a business arrangement. He'd done what he needed to do, and he should be relieved that it was over. And he was, in a way. The process had been more difficult than he'd anticipated, and having it out of his life was definitely a good thing.

He left the title company's offices and walked to his car, analyzing how he felt. After the home inspection had revealed some problems stemming from the house's long neglect, Lisbon had suggested that selling it might be a better way of honoring the memories associated with it, since now repairs would be made. And even though they knew the buyer was associated with Red John, surely, she'd remarked, he wouldn't keep it forever. Eventually it would be sold and another family would make memories there.

He'd been having a bad day, so he'd snapped at her that he didn't care, that all he kept thinking about was how the patch of floor where his daughter had taken her first steps would now be owned by her killer. That bitter truth had accomplished his momentary aim, and Lisbon hadn't tried to console him about the house again.

Really, when he thought about it, she had a point. But he'd been too busy torturing her as well as himself to admit it.

A perverse idea struck him: they should celebrate finally, irrevocably, selling the house. In public, so Red John would know. It might be the last chance Jane would have to defy his enemy and maybe lessen his sense of triumph. And if he could make Lisbon happy for an evening, all the better. Once in the car, he called the restaurant he had in mind to make reservations, distracting himself by charming the restaurant hostess into promising him the best table in the place.

On the drive back to CBI, Jane pondered the sometimes tricky problem of getting Lisbon out of the office at a reasonable hour. He was sure he'd have a get-out-of-jail-free card for the day if he pretended to be distraught, but mother-hen Lisbon wasn't the companion he wanted for the evening. And she'd been in full hovering mode all day until summoned by Bertram, leaving Jane to go deal with the final paperwork by himself like she'd explicitly asked him not to. Maybe, he thought, she'd be comforted that he was acting so much like his normal self. Or maybe he'd have snarky Lisbon across the dinner table from him, which was okay since his first choice, naughty Lisbon, didn't make public appearances.

Lisbon had gotten back before him, and the relief on her face when he walked into her office made him a little ashamed of not returning the texts she'd sent. But he honestly hadn't known how to condense what he was thinking into a text message.

"How did it go?" she asked gently.

"It went," he replied, not quite achieving nonchalance. "And now, we celebrate. Dinner at Henrico's at eight. It's your job to keep me from brooding, so wear something distracting."

The stunned expression on her face wasn't what he'd hoped for. "Henrico's? Jane, we can't go there. Half the people there will know us."

Which he was counting on, but he knew better than to explain his reasoning. "So? Two friends can't go out to celebrate? Nobody will think anything of it. Everybody knows you're my only friend."

She was still frowning, so he added, "I promise to be on my best behavior. No playing footsie under the table, and I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Well, if you promise," she said, pretending to be reluctant. He knew she really wanted to go, though. Henrico's was more expensive than any of the casual dates she usually had would warrant, and everyone raved about it.

"I promise. And to sweeten the deal, I'm taking the rest of the day off."

She immediately looked worried again. "You okay?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "I'm fine, Lisbon. I just don't feel like being around other people much at the moment. See you around seven?"

"Okay," she agreed.

Jane let his smile become smug as he left her office. Mission accomplished.

mmm

Lisbon got caught up in reviewing the witness statements from their latest case, looking for a new lead since Jane had been too distracted to contribute anything. So she was running late when she got home to find Jane sitting on the couch, looking sharp in one of his dark suits and a crisp white shirt, reading. She was relieved—until she saw what he was reading.

"What the hell is that?" she demanded, staring at the thick, glossy magazine with an airbrushed model in a ridiculously sparkly wedding gown on the cover.

He grinned up at her. "I picked up the mail on my way in. Are you trying to drop a hint, Lisbon? Rather heavy-handed, but perhaps you thought I might be a little slow on the uptake these days." He frowned at a page, then held it up to show her. "Look at this one with the see-through top. She looks like a hooker from the waist up and a fairy tale princess from the waist down. That seems the wrong way around to me. Don't you think? I feel sorry for the groom who has to try getting through all that skirt."

"Get that out of my house," Lisbon ordered.

"You didn't subscribe? It's addressed to you." Jane showed her the mailing label.

"No, I didn't subscribe! I'll call and cancel the subscription tomorrow." And find out who was playing this prank on her if possible. Unless—oh God. She swallowed hard. "You don't think—"

"That this is what he wants next? Maybe." Jane put the magazine down and became serious.

She tried to calm down, but suddenly she felt like there were things she needed to make clear. "Jane. I don't—I'm not ready to think about that. And even if I were—"

He smiled at her. "I know, Teresa. You won't be calling the archbishop and booking the cathedral. Although admit it, part of you would love to have your revenge on Van Pelt for the pink bridesmaid dress you had to buy." He smirked. "Where is that, by the way? I didn't see it in your closet."

"Her maid of honor talked the shop into taking them back and giving us a partial refund," Lisbon said. "Given the circumstances."

"Another longstanding fantasy dies an ignoble death." Jane sounded like he might not be entirely kidding. "Get dressed, my dear, or we'll be late."

She paused, feeling like she had more to say but not finding the words. Then she headed upstairs and quickly got ready. It was only after she went downstairs again and saw Jane's expression that she realized she was wearing exactly the same thing she'd had on at their near-miss in the diner. "Should I change?" she asked, not sure how to interpret the look he was giving her.

"Don't you dare," he grinned. He got up and came over to kiss her, resting his hands on her waist and pulling her close. "I will behave myself, because I promised you I would. But just so you know, I'm going to spend the entire dinner thinking about peeling that dress off you. And we are absolutely having dessert."

She smiled, but something troubling occurred to her, and she knew he could feel her tense. He stepped back and scrutinized her briefly, then smiled. "No, you do not have to inspect your food and drink for jewelry. I didn't arrange for the magazine, Teresa. If I were going to propose marriage, I would find a far more original way of doing it. However, I plan to wait for you to ask me, so put your mind at rest."

Lisbon blinked in surprise. He honestly thought she would, at some point in the foreseeable future, ask him to marry her? Still, it was a relief to know she didn't have to worry about some big embarrassing public scene, because of course she would have to say no. Or at least, not yet. "Good. With my luck, I'd accidentally swallow the damn thing if you put it in something. Besides, marriage is out of the question. One of us would have to leave the unit."

"Yes, it's a complex issue," he said in a patronizing tone as he ushered her toward the door. "And I have no particular desire to be engaged. It seems to me that putting a couple of carats on your finger would just tempt everybody you know to try to talk you out of it."

They were silent until they got in Jane's car. As he started it up, he said, "Just ask me, Lisbon."

"Ask you what?" It wasn't until the words were out of her mouth that she was reminded of that conversation in the diner.

He smiled, and she knew he was thinking of that too. "Anything."

She swallowed. She wasn't sure why she wanted to know, but she did. And she knew that if they were going to build a real relationship, they needed to be able to talk about things they had previously avoided. "How did you propose? Before?"

His smile faded. "I will tell you someday, Lisbon. Just...not tonight."

Despite his act, he really was upset about the house, she realized. "All right. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can ask me anything you want to know. But for tonight, I would really just like for us to have a good time."

She put on her brightest smile and said, "Then let's go. I'm looking forward to those scallops everybody talks about."

mmm

When the two of them were on the same page, they could manage nearly anything—including having a wonderful time at dinner, despite the fact that the AG was two tables away. Jane made it his mission to distract Lisbon by doing cold readings of their fellow diners and making her laugh, and she relaxed by the time their salads arrived.

They were both pleasantly full, and Lisbon was a little tipsy, by the time they left the restaurant. Because he'd promised to behave in public, he didn't touch her as they walked to his car, but he was delighted when she took his arm, leaning on him a little. "I hate these shoes," she muttered.

"Because you didn't want to invest money in something you rarely use," he pointed out. "Next time we go out for a fancy dinner, I'll give you enough notice to go shopping."

"I hate shoe shopping," she said.

He couldn't help chuckling. "At least I know there will be no painful scenes in our future where you try unsuccessfully to hide the credit card bills from me because you fell in love with a pair of ridiculous high heels."

Lisbon snorted. "Since I am not and never will be your dependent, I don't plan to answer to you about how I spend money, ever."

"Yes," he mused. "I will, as always, be the scoldee, not the scolder, when I give you gifts you say are too expensive but secretly love."

"I didn't scold you about the earrings. Even though I didn't believe for a minute that you used my money to pay for them," she said, sounding proud of herself.

"And I expect you to display the same good sense in accepting future gifts," he told her.

"As long as you keep displaying the same good sense in choosing them. I don't have anyplace to wear anything fancy."

"We can change that. I'd love to take you dancing someday," he said, letting the wistfulness into his voice. They'd danced, of course, but nearly always in front of their coworkers at those ridiculous benefits they had to go to. He wanted to dance with her like her lover, not her colleague. "Maybe we could take a weekend and drive over to San Francisco." Because of course she wouldn't want anyone they knew to see them.

"Mm. Maybe." She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, and he couldn't resist turning his face into her hair and kissing her. It was quick enough that he didn't think it was risky, but Lisbon straightened immediately, maintaining a friendly distance until they reached the car. Once inside, though, she rested a hand on his leg, letting him know she wasn't upset.

He'd been mulling over the question of whether her impulse to comfort him would win out over her reluctance to make a mess, given that her period wasn't finished yet, but he now realized that she'd already made her decision. While he couldn't help but feel gratified, it was his turn to be understanding, he knew. So he grinned over at her and said, "How about a nice long shower when we get home?"

Her smile was everything he'd hoped for. "That sounds perfect."

mmm

After a very satisfying, steamy shower, they went about their usual bedtime routine. Jane finished first, so he was flipping through the bridal magazine again by the time Lisbon was ready to join him. The little furrow between her eyebrows was amusing, and he would have enjoyed teasing her some more except for the shade of anxiety he saw in her eyes.

"Get that out of my bed," she demanded, crossing her arms and refusing to get in.

Despite his appreciation of how patient she'd been with him the last few weeks, he couldn't resist pointing out, "Our bed, my dear, since I'm officially living here now."

That gave her pause. She'd been too focused on him to process her own feelings, despite the fact that it had been her idea, he thought. He'd long suspected they were moving far too fast for her comfort, underneath all the good logical reasons she kept giving herself.

"Do you want me to go look for someplace?" he asked calmly. "With a bigger kitchen, preferably. You could spend as much time there as you like, of course."

She bit her lip, and he was pleased to see that she didn't look tempted. "That would be moving backward, which is obviously not what he expects, if he really did send that magazine."

He frowned. "We can't let him make the decisions. By that logic, we'd be out looking at rings and arguing about a church versus the beach."

"But you're worried about what he'll do if we get too far off his script," she said, finally sliding under the covers. "And so am I. I guess we could just pretend."

"Pretend to be okay with living together? You're already doing that. If we pretend to get engaged, that's a whole new level," he pointed out. "One that would have to involve your family and all our colleagues, including Bertram."

Lisbon grimaced. "Do you think if we threw a big wedding, Red John would show up? No," she caught herself, "that would be stupid. I don't want him anywhere near my family."

"It's an interesting question," Jane said, "but purely academic, since we are no longer on the case." He paused, then said, "If you decide otherwise, I trust you'll warn me?"

She yawned. "I'm tempted to make a sarcastic remark about extending you courtesies you rarely extend to me, but I'm too tired to get into that. Good night, Jane." She leaned over for a kiss, then said, "If you're going to keep reading that thing, go downstairs, will you? We can worry about it in the morning. I'll call the company and find out who put me on their mailing list."

"It'll be a dead end," he predicted, but he tossed the magazine on the floor, deciding he didn't want to end such a pleasant evening on a sour note. Holding her was so much more rewarding, and it might even lull him to sleep.

She snuggled up to him without hesitation once he turned off the bedside lamp, and he wrapped her in his arms, reflecting on the strange path that had led him to this moment.

"I'm sorry about the house," she whispered after a while.

"You don't need to be sorry," he said. "After I get used to it, I'll be relieved, I think. And if you want, we can look for a new place. Or I'll find someplace on my own if you prefer."

"I don't want you to leave," she murmured against his neck. "I've spent too much time missing you already."

He wondered how many of his wretched nights in Vegas she'd lain here alone, worried and lonely for him. Tightening his embrace, he kissed her hair. "I promised myself that if we ever made it to this stage, I'd never leave you again," he assured her. "You'll have to throw me out. Which you can, if you need to."

"Good to know," she replied, not sounding convinced.

"I don't want you to feel trapped. Nobody gave you a choice about all this,'' he pointed out. It was something he was growing increasingly concerned about. "If you don't want to do this anymore, you can tell me. I'll try to find a way to accept it."

She snorted. "No you won't. You'll just charm me into changing my mind. As many times as it takes, unless of course you get tired of me."

"Not happening."

"Good." She moved her head so they were lying nearly nose to nose. "You remember how I told you that I knew working with you was going to end in disaster?"

"And yet here we still are," he couldn't help pointing out.

"Well, the other thing I've always known was that I'll never be able to walk away from you unless you want me to. Not even then, maybe." She sighed. "I spent the last couple of years—especially those months you were in Vegas—trying to stop loving you. Nothing worked. So I guess it's not something I can recover from."

He kissed her, delighted by her confession. "When you came downstairs in that dress, at first I hated remembering that Mancini was the last man to take it off you. Then I realized that I didn't care who got to do it before me, as long as nobody else gets to after me. Because this feels permanent for me, too." He paused, then said, "I told you back at the cabin that I thought of you as my last chance, but that wasn't just because you're the only one who would put up with all my baggage. It's also that I can't imagine finding anyone else I could ever love and trust as much as you. And I know that for a variety of reasons we aren't ready to talk about getting married, but I already consider myself married to you in the ways that really matter." He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "I just want you to know that so you won't have to be nervous when you ask me."

Her little puff of annoyance washed across his face. "Is that why you said I had to ask you, because you think I feel like I haven't had a choice in all this?"

"That, and your general control freak tendencies."

Her knee nudged him in warning. "I have had choices, Jane. I could have chosen not to keep seeing Mancini, to start with."

"But you weren't going to, because I tried to warn you off him and you wanted to prove me wrong. Which only ever causes trouble, I am forced to point out."

"Only partly. I also wanted to pursue any chance that might lead us to Red John."

He'd known that, but he still didn't like hearing it. "No more investigations where you try to get information by sleeping with other men," he said firmly.

"It wasn't just that. I kept telling myself he was another nice guy I couldn't be excited about because he wasn't you," she admitted. "I thought if I gave him a real chance, I'd get more into him."

It was Jane's turn to snort. "You and I are both very bad at dating," he concluded. "So it's a good thing neither of us has to do it anymore."

"Mm hm," she agreed. "A very good thing."

mmm

The next few weeks passed quietly; they had to work on Thanksgiving, but that meant they could look forward to having Christmas off, barring emergencies. The rest of the team made their holiday plans, but Lisbon didn't. She wasn't ready to introduce Jane to her family, and she couldn't leave him here on his own. Plus, she liked the idea of a low-key holiday, especially when he started bringing up menu ideas for Christmas dinner, asking if she preferred turkey or ham, or if there was some particular Lisbon family tradition he should attempt. She assured him that she'd be happy to eat whatever he liked to cook, as long as he didn't give her a hard time about going to mass on Christmas Eve. That was the one tradition she cared about.

"Do you expect me to go too?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure.

She hadn't even considered it as a possibility, actually. "Not unless you want to. You can keep the bed warm for me instead. Oh, and no extravagant presents."

He smiled. "You're giving me a roasting pan, since you don't have one. And a few other assorted kitchen necessities. You don't even have to shop or wrap."

"That's a present all in itself," she smiled in relief. But she resolved to get him something for under the tree, though whether it would be a surprise was an open question. He was good at predicting her, but at least she was getting better at predicting him. It helped that he wasn't pursuing Red John—that had always been the motivation for his most unpredictable behavior.

"I knew you'd like it." He gave her a smug grin as he headed for the door. "I'll bring you some breakfast. Suggestions?"

"I'd love a bear claw." Omelets and pancakes were all very well, but occasionally she just wanted her old standbys. There were advantages to letting Jane make her late in the morning once in a while.

"Done. See you there." They exchanged their usual kiss before parting ways, and Lisbon hurried to grab her keys. They weren't fooling the team, but she still preferred to leave as much space as possible between their arrival times.

When she got to the office, the atmosphere in the bullpen was tense. That was unusual, especially since Jane wasn't here to cause trouble. God, she hoped it wasn't another audit. "Good morning," she said, more as an experiment than a greeting.

Cho stood. "Not so much." He nodded toward her office, so she led the way.

When they were behind closed doors, she said, "Okay. What happened?"

Cho's crossed arms were the only overt sign of discomfort. "Red John. Two victims, mother and daughter."

Lisbon felt like she'd just been hit by a truck. She went blindly to her chair and dropped into it. "Oh God."

"Yeah. Get this, though: this time the daughter wasn't a little girl. She was fifteen."

The age Charlotte Jane would have been, Lisbon realized. "Toenails painted?"

"Wasn't in the news report," Cho said. "Know anybody in the FBI we can ask?"

She swallowed. "No. We can't seem too interested in this."

"Why now?" Cho wondered.

Lisbon thought of the bridal magazine and winced. "To let us know he hasn't gone away, I guess. That he's still watching. Bastard." She tried to calm down. "I need you to run the Malofsky case. I might need the day off."

"Sure thing, Boss. Anything you need."

They were both a little startled when her door opened suddenly and Jane came in. He set a bear claw and coffee on Lisbon's desk, then said, "From the looks I got on my way in, either I developed a horrible disfigurement between Marie's and here, or you have bad news."

Cho clapped him briefly on the shoulder on his way out. Jane looked at Lisbon and said, "Who did he kill?"

"I don't have the details, but it was a mother and her fifteen-year-old daughter." She got up and went to stand in front of him, so close they were nearly touching, not trying to hide the worry she felt.

"Ah." He was still as a statue, only his eyes betraying his agitation. "A bit pointed, but loud and clear."

She waited in vain for him to elaborate. "Is this because we didn't start planning a wedding?"

"It's to let me know he never had any intention of retiring. That this was never about saying good-bye. That we'll never be free of him."

He was breathing too hard, she realized. "Let's go get some tea somewhere," she suggested, tentatively laying a hand on his arm.

He allowed, but did not accept, her touch. "I need some time."

"Sure. We can—"

He shook his head and stepped back, dislodging her hand. "No need for both of us to slack off. I'll call you."

She watched him leave with a sinking heart, wondering how long it would take him to keep that promise.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **This chapter came out way less angsty than I was expecting. And the next one is threatening to become downright comic. Apparently my muse is the happy kind of insane. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and all those who are following along on this trek—I hope you are all keeping warm and safe!

**Chapter 21**

Lisbon did her best to keep busy. It helped that the Malofsky case heated up and they found a suspect to interrogate, then had to run down his alibi, which appeared to hold up until they dug further. Then there was all the arrest paperwork. She gratefully accepted Rigsby's offer to bring back some dinner, knowing her personal chef was taking the night off.

When she couldn't put off going home any longer, she found it empty, as she'd feared. Checking her phone for the umpteenth time confirmed there were no messages waiting. She resigned herself to being the one to break their silence and sent him a text, keeping to the practical: _Should I leave the light on for you?_

She was climbing into bed when the reply came: _No, I won't disturb you. Good night._

It was the answer she'd expected, but she couldn't help the fierce disappointment that seized her. When the phone buzzed again, she tried not to hope as she grabbed it, but he didn't retract his earlier message. _Sorry. Love you._

_Love you too,_ she sent back. She wanted to add that she missed him, but he already knew that, and she didn't want to add to the guilt he was already wrestling with.

Maybe they should take a few days off, she thought. Go someplace else, try to forget about Red John for a while. But that was a temporary solution at best. In the long term, they were going to have to find a way to cope with the fact that the deal might be off. Jane hadn't broken his end, so she wasn't worried about Red John killing her immediately. Like tonight. No, that wasn't likely. Not very likely, anyway.

She went downstairs and double checked the locks. Would her couch at the office be safer? Red John's friends seemed to have no trouble accessing the CBI, so probably not.

She was a cop, and she wasn't going to let Red John run her life. She was going to go to bed and try to sleep, or at least read a good book. Jaw set stubbornly, she went back upstairs, taking her gun with her.

mmm

Lisbon came back to herself slowly, nerve endings alight with aftershocks. Jane's rhythm was growing erratic, a sure sign that he was close to the edge himself. His breath was coming in gasps, and he bent his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, his eyes closing involuntarily.

She loved this moment best of all, when he was most purely himself—no masks, no hidden thoughts or agendas. Only she ever saw him like this.

His hoarse cry made her smile, and she drew him down onto her to rest a moment as he stopped shuddering. When he recovered, he would roll off her, afraid of crushing her, but meanwhile he was limp, panting, his formidable brain short-circuited.

She looked up at the ceiling—and saw a shadow move. As she drew a startled breath, she saw a flash of moonlight off the knife and frantically tried to push Jane off her, out of the way. But she wasn't fast enough, and the blade sliced downward. She felt the force of the blow through Jane's body as he gave another cry, this time one of pain.

Lisbon pushed him off and lunged for her gun, but it wasn't there. When she looked again, neither was Red John. She reached for Jane, but he was too still, lifeless. "Jane!" she shouted. "Jane, no, goddammit!"

There was blood all over her hands when she finished turning him over, and she couldn't help the sob that tore out of her. "Jane," she wailed. "You promised. Jane!"

"Lisbon. Wake up. Teresa, I'm right here," she heard him say, and then, abruptly, she was awake.

"Oh thank God," she breathed, lifting shaking arms to pull him down onto the bed with her. She gradually became aware that he stank of alcohol and sweat, but she didn't care.

"Bad one, hm?" he murmured.

"Yeah." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "He came in and stabbed you while we were having sex."

"Worst sex dream ever," he said, with a glimmer of humor.

"Yeah. I'm glad you're here. You okay?" She got herself under control and looked at him. She caught herself before she could ask where he'd been, because it was obviously a bar, and it wasn't important which one.

"I'm drunk off my ass," he sighed, speaking more slowly than normal. "And I'm going to hate myself in the morning. But I got worried 'cause if the deal's off, you're not safe. So I crashed on the couch so I wouldn't wake you."

She wasn't going to object to his trying to protect her if it made him crawl out of the bottle. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"Drunk, Lisbon, not insane," he complained. "You'll give me a ride to my car tomorrow, won't you?"

"Of course." She kissed him, tasting vodka and grimacing. '"Can you stand up long enough to brush your teeth?"

"Demanding woman," he groaned, rolling back off the bed. "Ugh. Don't want to sleep in my clothes anyway."

When he came back to bed, he smelled better, at least. She wrapped herself around him, trying to banish her nightmare. Then something occurred to her. "I wonder how accurate he was in my dream? I've seen him, after all, even if I can't consciously remember it."

Jane groaned. "We're both going to have headaches tomorrow if you keep that up. Just try to go to sleep, please, Teresa."

"Let me just write down what I—"

He tightened his hold on her, refusing to let her up. "Leave it," he growled.

Sensing he was in no mood to be reasonable, she gave in and tried to relax again. But in her mind, she focused on the shadowy image she'd seen in her dream, committing it to memory.

mmm

Jane was downright surly the next morning, and Lisbon told him to take a sick day and left water and aspirin on the nightstand. Then she went to her office and seized the opportunity to spend time with the CBI's facial composite software, with some help from Grace.

"Does this mean we're back on the case?" Grace ventured, after they'd gotten as far as they could, given that Lisbon hadn't had a close look or even noticed hair color in the dim light.

It was too bad there was no chance of Jane hypnotizing her to better remember what she'd seen, Lisbon thought, then shook her head. "No. It's the FBI's case. Bertram said he'd fire Jane and me if we went anywhere near it. But it seems like the deal Jane made is off, so if there's anything we can pass along that might help, we should," Lisbon explained.

"And Jane agrees with that?" Grace looked skeptical.

"When he's had time to think about it, he will," Lisbon said firmly.

"Okay. So I guess I shouldn't mention this to him."

"There's no reason to." Lisbon frowned; she didn't want to start keeping secrets from Jane, or asking the team to. For one thing, he was bound to catch on sooner or later. Her gaze was drawn to the couch he'd bought her, where he'd spent so much time lately. What would Jane do if he weren't so adamantly against anything that could be perceived as working the case? Maybe there was some merit to her wedding idea, after all? "Grace," she said slowly, "I'd like your help with something."

"Sure, Boss. All you have to do is ask," Grace said immediately.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "I think one of the reasons Red John killed again, in a way so personal to Jane, is that we ignored what he wanted us to do."

"What is that?" Grace asked.

"He...sent us one of those bride magazines," Lisbon sighed. "Of course a wedding is not an option, and even if it were, I wouldn't want to put all our friends in danger. But if we really did get married right now, we wouldn't have a big wedding anyway. We'd do it in secret."

Grace nodded. "So what we need is a fake secret wedding."

"Exactly. And who would I turn to for help with that?"

"Me?" Grace beamed. "Are you asking me to be your fake secret maid of honor?"

Lisbon couldn't help a smile. "Yes, I guess I am."

"So. Venue," Grace said. "Anyplace in mind? If it's secret, that lets out most of the traditional options."

"The coast somewhere," Lisbon said. "Jane loves the beach."

"So you'll want a simple dress, something flowy. We can go shopping after Christmas."

"Grace, don't get too excited. This isn't real. And there's no need to mention any of it to Jane, either."

Grace blinked. "It's a secret from Jane? How are you going to get him there?"

"If it comes to that, I'll explain the plan. He won't be able to resist." Lisbon was sure of her ground there, at least. He'd said she had to be the one to propose; he hadn't specified how long in advance of the ceremony.

"But wouldn't he be buying the rings?"

"If we were trying to keep it secret, no. We'd send someone. Someone we could trust with a wad of cash, because we wouldn't use credit," Lisbon mused. "Cho, because Rigsby's too easy for Jane to read. I'll take care of that later."

"You need to pick a date," Grace said. "And then I'll get started and decide who should accidentally see me looking at bridesmaids dresses. Word'll spread like wildfire. Everybody will think you're pregnant for sure."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Great." She pulled up the calendar on her computer and said, "How much lead time do we need?"

"Depends on whether you're buying your dress off the rack or having it made," Grace said promptly. "If you buy something off the rack, you can probably pull it off in six weeks or so. Oh, and don't forget you have to get a license."

"Right." Lisbon stifled another sigh. "Valentine's Day would be way too cliched."

"But it's an easy day to remember, for an anniversary."

As if Jane would need the help, Lisbon thought. He observed the anniversary of his family's deaths every year like clockwork. Though that might have to stop now, she realized. "I guess since it's not real..."

"Of course, all the florists are going to be jammed then," Grace pointed out. "But we probably just need a bouquet for you and a posy for me, then boutonnieres for the guys. Those could be made up a couple of days in advance."

Lisbon was relieved that Grace seemed to enjoy all this; it didn't seem to be bringing up reminders of planning her own wedding. But then, this fake ceremony would be very different from the big formal affair Grace and O'Loughlin had planned. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, Grace. Just remember, this is supposed to be secret, so you shouldn't do much during work hours."

"Got it." Grace got to her feet, still smiling. "Fake secret congratulations, Boss."

She nearly ran into Bertram on her way out, which wiped the smile from her face. Lisbon stood, surprised at the director's presence in her office.

"Sit, sit," he waved a hand and sat down in her guest chair, leaving her to reseat herself as quickly as she could.

"What can I do for you today, sir?"

"Where's Jane?" he asked.

"He's feeling a little under the weather today." Which was true, as far as it went, but not terribly convincing. "The news hit him pretty hard."

"Ah. Yes. You're sure he's not out chasing down some harebrained idea that will end in a public relations disaster for the bureau?" Bertram leaned back and scrutinized her.

"I'm sure," Lisbon said. But of course she would have said that either way, so she couldn't blame him for looking dubious. "I can call him if you'd like to talk to him."

"Not necessary." Bertram frowned at the wall, composing his next sentence, she guessed. "I'm told that you didn't return the FBI profiler's calls when they first took this case."

"I didn't want to put my job at risk. And there was nothing I could tell them that wasn't in the files."

"They aren't convinced of that. And now that we have this new murder, so reminiscent of Jane's family, they really want to talk to the two of you. In the interest of interagency cooperation, I've agreed to make you available."

"But Jane doesn't want anything to do with the Red John case anymore," Lisbon said, alarmed.

"And as he is merely a consultant, I can't really compel him," Bertram said, not sounding unhappy. "You, however, are another matter."

"Yes, sir. As long as we agree this doesn't constitute a breach of our agreement."

Bertram smiled thinly at her. "Regardless of what you might think, Agent, I am not looking for a reason to fire you. Or Jane. I was simply trying to avoid being caught up in another of your incomprehensible schemes. But from your reluctance, I gather you wanting to get rid of the case was genuine."

"Yes, sir." At the time, it certainly had been, on both their parts. But Lisbon thought she might be changing her mind. "I will make myself available to the profiler. Special Agent Moore, wasn't it?"

"Yes. He's waiting for your call.'' Bertram got to his feet. "I trust you will render all the assistance he requires."

"Yes, sir," Lisbon said, keeping her expression neutral until he was out of sight. She sat for a few minutes, sorting through her thoughts. She had no choice but to talk to the FBI, that was clear. What she should tell them, and whether she should consult with Jane beforehand, was another matter.

Cho came into her office and closed the door, and she looked up at him, puzzled. "Are we up?"

"No. What did Bertram want?" he asked, settling in the chair the director had vacated.

"To make me talk to the FBI," she said. "Specifically, the profiler on the Red John case."

"Stan Moore," Cho said.

Lisbon looked at him in surprise. "You know him?"

"A little. When you wouldn't talk to him, I offered to, but only if nobody found out. Nobody has that I know of. And I checked him out. Seems clean." He paused. "The thing is, I told him he should look at Mancini, but I didn't tell him why. I thought you should know before you talk to him."

"Yeah. Thanks, Cho."

He acknowledged her gratitude with a curt nod. "This is going to put you in danger, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure I was ever out of danger," she admitted.

"You going to tell Jane?"

"I'll have to, at some point. What can you tell me about Moore?"

"Young. Ambitious. Bright. Pretty good at reading people, from what I saw. He's no Jane, though."

Lisbon smiled a little. "Good. I only need the one to deal with."

mmm

Jane slept most of the morning, but after his stomach finally settled, hunger pulled him out of bed. When he'd eaten, he took a shower to see if that helped. He felt only slightly better, so he decided not to make an appearance at the office after all. He had some thinking to do, and it might as well be here in the peace and quiet.

Two hours later, he was rethinking his decision. The apartment was too quiet. He needed the background noise, and the awareness of Lisbon's presence, to concentrate properly. So he made himself presentable and drove to the CBI.

Lisbon's office was disappointingly empty, so he proceeded to the bullpen. "Good afternoon," he greeted his teammates, who only looked mildly surprised. "Lisbon around?"

Rigsby ducked his head, trying to hide a smirk. Cho said, "She's in a meeting. How are you?"

"Oh, never better," he said breezily. "How are things going?"

"We solved the Malofsky case," Rigsby said proudly.

"Really?" Jane was at once disappointed and relieved. "I guess you can live without me after all. In that case, my work here is done and I can retire in peace."

None of them believed him for a second. Grace said, "Hey Jane, what's your favorite color?"

He managed to keep the surprise off his face, but she didn't keep the amusement off hers. "Why do you ask?"

"Blue, like your car?" she guessed.

"Why not?" he replied. It wasn't, but she didn't need to know that the color he was most fond of these days was the mysterious, mossy shade of Lisbon's eyes. "Well, if I'm not needed, I'll just catch a nap."

Nobody protested when he headed back to Lisbon's office, closed the door, and settled on the couch. He dozed off fairly quickly, but woke at the sound of Lisbon's voice coming down the hall. "I apologize for the oversight. Everything was just so hectic that night—"

She pushed the door open, and he opened his eyes in time to see her surprise turn to guilty alarm. Jane's curiosity was piqued, and he sat up, doing an automatic threat assessment on Lisbon's companion. No, too young, and her body language wasn't signaling romantic interest. The voice in the back of his head growling "mine mine MINE" quieted, which made it much easier to think clearly.

"Jane," Lisbon said, recovering quickly. "I'm glad you're feeling better. This is Special Agent Stan Moore with the FBI. Stan, Patrick Jane."

_Stan, is it?_ Jane thought sourly. _Honestly, Lisbon, haven't we had enough of the FBI?_ But in response to her pleading look, he got to his feet and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said.

Moore's face nearly split with his wide grin as they shook hands. "Mr. Jane, it's a real pleasure. I've been fascinated by your case notes. I was so disappointed when Teresa said you weren't available."

Lisbon said unnecessarily, "Stan is the profiler on the Red John case."

"Teresa's been super helpful," Moore burbled. "Do you have a few minutes? Because I'd love to hear your thoughts firsthand."

"I've had enough of that case to last a lifetime," Jane said. "I'm sure Teresa's told you all you need to know." He glanced at her to let her know he wasn't as okay with this as he seemed, and she grimaced a little, heading for her desk.

"But she wasn't there for all of it. I'm looking into Mancini, but nobody can tell me exactly what happened after you and he left the cabin."

Jane was surprised Lisbon had chosen to come clean about the protective custody. How had she explained—ah. The note, of course. Obviously she had decided it was simpler to pretend Red John had written it, although she knew perfectly well he hadn't.

Sure enough, Lisbon pulled an evidence bag containing the note from her desk drawer and walked back around her desk to hand it to Moore. "I guess I forgot about it. We were in such a hurry. And we didn't think there'd be any evidence on it, anyway. Jane got his prints all over it when he found it on his car."

Moore took the note eagerly, scanning it. "Ah. I see why you were concerned." He looked at Jane. "So. Mancini?"

Jane frowned impatiently, but he judged the fastest way to get rid of the man was to answer the question. "He had me drive out to the middle of nowhere, then told me I had a choice. I could stay there and wait for Red John to take my shot at killing him, but Lisbon would die no matter which of us walked away. Or I could go back and save Lisbon and I'd never hear from Red John again. Which was a lie, obviously," he finished bitterly.

Moore looked at him, fascinated. "How long did it take you to decide?"

Jane blinked. "What was there to decide?"

"So you decided to walk away from everything you'd worked for every day for the past, what, nine years, just like that?"

"Yes." Jane was offended by the implication that he had, even for a moment, considered letting Lisbon die. He hadn't.

"Why?"

Now he was really tired of the little weasel's questions. "For a profiler, you're remarkably clueless," he remarked with a forced casual air. "What kind of a monster would I have to be to sacrifice the life of someone who only ever tried to help me?"

"It's a good question." Moore's expression had changed. "What kind of monster are you, Mr. Jane?"

Lisbon had gradually shifted position from halfway between them to standing at Jane's side, facing Moore. He had no doubt it was unconscious on her part, but it wasn't lost on him, nor on Moore. Especially when she snapped, "We're done, Agent Moore. Good luck on your case."

Jane smiled, not quite smoothing the edge out. "I'm a mostly tame monster, Stan. You can insult me all you want, and as long as Lisbon's in the room you'll walk out unscathed. But let me tell you what you really need to know: you won't find Red John by looking at me."

Moore nodded slowly. "Did you know that Agent Wainwright diagnosed you as a psychopath?"

"Yes. He told me," Jane said. "But note that he did not fire me. He never even bothered to tell Lisbon what he thought."

That truth was obvious; Lisbon's expression was pure stunned fury. "Because I would have told him where he could stick his diagnosis! You are not a psychopath!"

"Naturally, I agree," Jane said pleasantly. "And if you look closely, Agent Moore, I think you'll find I have excellent alibis for a significant number of Red John's murders. Including my family's."

Lisbon stared at him in horror. Bless her heart, it had never occurred to her to suspect him, even for an instant. But then, she knew him.

"Yes, we're aware," Moore said. "But Red John is known to have many associates. Several investigators over the years have speculated about your relationship to him, including Agent Darcy, poor woman."

"There is no relationship," Jane said.

"You listen to me," Lisbon said fiercely, taking a step toward Moore. "You have some nerve coming into my office and accusing one of my people of collusion with a serial killer he's been putting his life on the line to catch for the better part of a decade."

"With a notable lack of success, especially given how easily you seem to close other cases," Moore said. "But now that I've met you, I tend to discount the theory that you've been covering for him."

"Out," Lisbon ordered. "Now."

Jane smiled at him. "Pleasure to meet you, Stan. We should do this again sometime."

"It truly was, Mr. Jane," Moore smiled back. "Agent Lisbon, thank you for your help. Please call me if you remember any other misplaced evidence."

When the door had swung shut behind him, Lisbon hissed, "Asshole!"

Jane grinned. "He was just trying to rile us up to see what we might let slip. At any rate," he added, letting his expression darken, "I consider you reaped your just reward for going to the FBI behind my back."

"Bertram ordered me to. What was I supposed to do, quit?" she demanded, folding her arms.

Jane briefly considered how easily he could get her fired, since he'd nearly managed it a couple of times while actively trying not to. But it was useless: she'd probably go straight to the FBI, and if they had any sense at all (by no means a certainty), they'd hire her in a heartbeat.

"Look," Lisbon continued, "if the deal's off, there's no reason not to help with the case."

"We don't know that the deal is off," Jane said. "He was making a point, yes. But he didn't come after you. In fact, now that I've had time to think, he won't until he's sure we've stopped playing along."

"I'm working on that," she muttered, going to sit behind her desk.

"Ah." Everything clicked. "So that's why Grace was asking my favorite color. You've set her to planning our secret wedding." He grinned. "That's brilliant, Lisbon."

"It's just to buy us some time," she said hurriedly. "It's not for real."

He smiled indulgently. Heaven forbid she should betray any trace of a desire to marry him, or any girly daydreams about a wedding. "Do I get to know the time and place, or is it an ambush?"

She blushed, to his delight. "Valentine's Day, on a beach somewhere."

"In February? It had better be somewhere south of here," he remarked. "Unless you plan to wear a coat over your white dress."

"Why would I wear white? That ship sailed years ago," Lisbon said.

"For which I am personally profoundly grateful," he chuckled, watching her cheeks grow rosy again. He was tempted to tell her how much he appreciated what a sweet and generous lover she was, not to mention her willingness to follow his lead when they were in an adventurous mood, but that was the last thing she wanted to hear in the office. "Should I go get some rings?"

"No. It's supposed to be a secret, remember?"

"But not really. We want him to know. We can pretend to have too much to drink at dinner one evening and I'll drag you to a jewelry store," he suggested.

"What, you can't pick out the perfect ring for me by yourself?" she challenged.

"Of course I can," he said indignantly. "I'll even get the size right. Should I consider that my contribution?"

"If you want." She sounded uninterested, but he knew she really was curious.

"Then, since you have nothing urgent for me to do here, I'll take the rest of my sick day," he said. "Will you be home on time?"

"Unless we catch a case."

"Call me if you do. I can't let you keep solving cases without me, or you might decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

She smirked at him as he left, but he didn't mind. She deserved to gloat over solving one without him. He would just make sure she didn't get another chance anytime soon.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **I'm afraid the last part of this chapter might be a bit rushed, because I woke up knowing where I wanted to go afterward and just want to get there. So, sorry if anyone feels I glossed over something important! And just so you know, I haven't been able to stop grinning since this story hit 300 reviews. You guys are awesome!

**Chapter 22**

The next morning, Lisbon woke to a series of light, hopeful kisses along her jawline, then down her neck. She let herself enjoy them until Jane pulled at the neckline of her jersey to work along her collarbone. "Don't get your hopes up," she yawned. From the way the sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, she knew it was almost time for her alarm.

He chuckled, the vibration tickling her skin. "My hopes aren't the only thing that's up." He scooted closer to her back so she could feel for herself.

"Down, boy," she murmured, but she couldn't help smiling. It still surprised her that he was just like other guys she'd dated when it came to morning sex, since he was unique in most other ways. "I can't be late today. Budget meeting."

He made a disapproving sound that was part grunt and part groan. "I think I should prove I have your welfare at heart and kidnap you until it's over."

"It's the downside of getting to tell other people what to do. Which I like." She reached up to move her hair out of her face and was surprised when something cool and smooth brushed her cheek. Holding out her left hand to examine it, she was transfixed by the ring that had mysteriously appeared on the appropriate finger.

It was a beautiful emerald flanked by two diamonds, in an unobtrusive setting that wouldn't get in her way. The stones were obviously high quality but not ostentatiously large, and since it wasn't a diamond solitaire it could pass as something other than an engagement ring. It was exactly the kind of thing she would choose, and of course it fit perfectly.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured into her ear, then planted a kiss behind it.

"You're two days early," was all she could think to say.

"It seemed like a good idea to prop up your clever play," he replied. "You can wear it on your right hand at work, and the gossips will have a field day. Especially if you wear it where it belongs when we're out on our own time."

She was flabbergasted, though she shouldn't have been, she told herself. She'd practically dared him to do it, after all. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to decide when we got engaged."

"I said you had to propose. I'm sticking to that," he said, sounding amused. "Anyway, isn't this all supposed to be fake?"

Lisbon tried to get her emotions under control. She hadn't expected to be so affected by a piece of jewelry, especially if he was denying it had a deeper meaning. "This doesn't look fake."

"Of course it's not. But the engagement is, until you choose to make it otherwise. Were you thinking of waiting until five minutes before the ceremony? That seems fitting somehow."

She rolled over so she could look at him. "I haven't thought about it."

He smiled gently at her. "Of course not. But now that you have that thing to stare at all day, you will."

"Who says I'm going to wear it?" But she knew it was a hollow threat. It made too much sense to prop up the wedding ploy.

"Oh, I know it will be annoying having all those women admiring it, pretending they aren't jealous," he said. "Especially since no matter how much you deny it, they'll all assume it's from me. But I'm sure you can stand it."

She couldn't deny, at least to herself, that there would be a certain satisfaction in having everyone think the most gorgeous but unavailable man in the CBI had fallen for her. But this wasn't high school, and she wasn't the shy bookworm who'd gotten asked to the prom by the quarterback. It just felt that way, no matter how sternly she tried to tell herself otherwise. She dwelled for a moment on the image of Jane in football pads (over his three-piece suit, no doubt), letting the ridiculous image shake her out of her weird dreamy mood.

"I hope you insured this thing," she said.

"I will," he said. "As soon as I get my renter's insurance."

She frowned. He was moving out? "I already have renter's insurance."

"I've been thinking it might be a good idea for us to have options. I want us to start looking at apartments in secure buildings. With big kitchens."

The thought of moving was exhausting. Her face apparently said as much, because he added, "You'd move in incrementally, of course, because we wouldn't want to be obvious. And also because I'm planning to buy a bigger bed with a much better mattress, so no need to move this one. You should probably just throw it out."

She swatted him half-heartedly. "Says the man who until recently slept on a board in a dusty attic most of the time."

"All I ever did on it was sleep. We can talk about the apartment later—the wedding should buy us some time. And I'm holding on to the money from the house, in case we need it."

"In case we have to run," she guessed.

"I know you won't do that unless we have no choice. But we might not realize we have no choice until it's almost too late." He reached over and began playing with her fingers, thumb rubbing over the ring. "I never did tell you how I proposed."

"No, you didn't." She was surprised at the change in subject, but she wanted to hear the story, so she didn't object.

"Angela loved Ferris wheels. So I made a deal with the guy running ours one night, so we'd get stuck at the very top long enough for me to give her the ring. It was a gorgeous night." His expression softened, becoming distant. "We could see the entire carnival, all lit up beneath us. And there weren't any clouds, so you could see all the stars shining. Angela's eyes were shining almost as brightly. I knew it was going to be perfect, just like I planned. So when she wasn't looking, I took the ring out of my pocket." He paused.

"And?" she prompted softly.

"And then this stupid bird landed right on my head."

Lisbon managed to convert her surprised laugh into a strangled cough. Jane put on a long-suffering look and said, "Yeah, that was pretty much her reaction too. I don't know if it was sick or what, but it sat there until I moved my head. Then it tried to take off, but it got stuck. I used to wear a lot of hair gel."

Lisbon bit her lip, barely hanging on to her expression of polite curiosity instead of bursting into laughter.

"Angela practically climbed in my lap, trying to see if the bird was hurt, and it started flapping around. All I could think about was not dropping the damn ring—well, and how nice it was having her breasts in my face."

"What happened then?" She was beginning to suspect the real reason Jane wasn't planning to propose.

"The stupid bird panicked and shat all over my head."

Lisbon couldn't help laughing this time, and she buried her face in the pillow to try to muffle it.

"Then it flew off, finally." He still sounded aggrieved about the whole thing. "So there I am, birdshit in my hair, holding on to the ring. Angela sat back down and noticed it for the first time, and she got this look of shock on her face that was actually much more daunting than the shit in my hair. And we just looked at each other for a minute. Then I figured, well, hell, the surprise is blown, but I have to ask her now, right? I can't just put the ring back in my pocket. So I skipped the whole speech I'd composed about how beautiful and kind she was and how I wasn't worthy of her, but I'd spend the rest of my life worshipping the ground she walked on, and just blurted out, 'Will you marry me?' like an idiot."

Lisbon's alarm chose that moment to go off, and she slapped the off button with more force than strictly necessary. "And she said yes."

"Actually, she said that any man who had the guts to propose with birdshit in his hair was obviously someone who wouldn't take no for an answer, so she supposed she might as well save time and give in now." He smiled wistfully. "She always did like to tease me."

Lisbon rested her head on his shoulder and slid her arm across him in a loose hug, her heart aching for him. He still missed his wife, she knew. He probably always would, regardless of the life the two of them planned to build together. She wondered if someday they would have funny stories like this. Oh God, if she ever did propose to him, she'd have to figure out how to make it as memorable as this story.

But that was for the future. For now, the man she loved had shared something he held close to his heart. "Thank you for telling me that," she said, kissing his cheek. "She sounds wonderful."

"She was," he agreed, not quite keeping the tremor of emotion out of his voice. Then he cleared his throat. "But you see now why I've sworn off marriage proposals."

"Yes." She smiled. "Fortunately, there are no birds in the CBI."

"Ooooh. Does that mean I can expect a big public spectacle in front of all our friends and colleagues?" His eyes sparkled.

"Maybe." She drew out the word, teasing him. Then she slid out of bed. "But not today."

mmm

Since they were between cases and Lisbon was occupied with boring administrative minutia, Jane decided to read on his couch in the bullpen until something exciting happened. It didn't take nearly as long as he'd feared.

"Stan! Back so soon," he greeted Moore as he walked into the bullpen. "Did you think of more probing questions to outrage Lisbon? I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the powers that be are finished torturing her with budget spreadsheets."

Moore returned his smile. "I trust you explained to her what I was trying to achieve. Although since I understand you often use the same technique, I'm surprised she didn't spot the tactic on her own."

"She doesn't care about motive when she's defending her team," Jane said. "So, can I help you?"

"Actually I was hoping to speak with Agent Van Pelt. I think I've found a connection between O'Loughlin and Mancini."

Grace looked up, curious but reluctant. Jane knew that she did her very best to avoid thinking about her dead fiancé, so he wasn't surprised at her hesitation. But he also knew that she would do her job, whatever it cost her. He made a mental note to do something to amuse her later.

Cho spoke up. "We looked into O'Loughlin pretty closely. We didn't find anything."

"But you didn't have access to everything the FBI has on him," Moore pointed out. "Or Mancini. We have some promising leads."

"Be careful," Cho said. "Every promising lead we've ever had on Red John has ended up with somebody dead, pretty much."

"I'm aware," Moore said. "I'm also aware that Red John has reacted lethally to having Mr. Jane taken off the case. Of course, this time he gave it up, so I'm hoping that makes a difference. So, Agent Van Pelt, can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

Grace looked at her colleagues, clearly hoping for direction. Cho gave her an almost imperceptible nod; Rigsby looked worried; and Jane gave her an encouraging smile. So Grace stood, grabbed her jacket, and left, only one backward glance betraying her unease.

Rigsby looked unhappy. "Since when are we buddies with the FBI?"

Cho spoke before Jane could reply. "Since Lisbon decided we were."

"I thought we weren't going anywhere near the Red John case," Rigsby persisted.

This time Jane spoke first. "We're not working the case. But Bertram wants us to cooperate. Lisbon told Moore about the note Red John left me, threatening her, and that's why we were at the cabin."

Cho added quietly, "But not about what happened to her. Just that Mancini lured Jane out."

"Got it. Did anybody bother to tell Grace that?"

"She'll figure it out," Jane said confidently. "Don't fret, Rigsby. We're not working Christmas, so you have some time to figure out what you'll say when he corners you. He probably only tackled Grace today because she's leaving tomorrow. And he hasn't had a go at me yet without Lisbon watching him like a hawk, so that's what he'll do next. He nearly changed his mind just now, didn't you notice?"

"You should have made him, so Cho could warn Grace."

"Oh, stop worrying. Grace is going to make him drag every syllable out of her, and she'll tell him as little as she can. Her days of trusting FBI agents are long over." Jane went back to his book.

Rigsby gave up with a frown, and he and Cho went back to work, taking seriously Lisbon's command to get all their outstanding paperwork turned in before they left for Christmas. Jane wondered how she planned to comply with her own decree, considering this stupid budget meeting would probably generate more work. In his observation, that was how these things went. And he had no intention of sitting idly by while she worked through dinner, though he supposed he would have to live with it if she brought work home with her. At least it would be fun trying to distract her.

He was just beginning to think he would have to go out and get her something for lunch when she entered the bullpen, carrying a sheaf of papers with lots of numbers on them and looking like she had just escaped a terrible fate. Which he supposed she had. "Lunch?" he greeted her.

"Where's Van Pelt?" she asked, ignoring him.

Cho said, "Moore wanted to talk to her about O'Loughlin."

Lisbon grimaced. "Then I think we should wait for her before we have lunch. My treat."

Rigsby brightened, but Cho and Jane immediately looked at Lisbon for clues to what was up. Jane was quickly distracted by Cho noticing the ring on her right hand for the first time. His reaction was a brief look of surprise, followed by a smirk directed at Jane. Jane smirked back until Cho looked at Lisbon and said, "Nice ring."

Rigsby's head whipped around as Lisbon's expression turned resigned. "Thanks."

"Yes, that is a very nice ring," Jane said. "Who's it from?" He was curious what she'd been telling people in the meeting.

"It's a Christmas present from a friend," she said. "Of course now I have a pretty high bar for his gift. I'm thinking he needs a pet parakeet. Or two."

He grinned at her, acknowledging the snark as proportional punishment for his goading her and appreciating the reference to his proposal story. Lisbon turned to go, saying, "Let me know when Van Pelt gets back."

"So," Rigsby said when Lisbon was out of earshot, "is that why we're all going to lunch? There's an announcement?"

"Announcements aren't my department," Jane said, keeping his eyes on his book but allowing himself to smile. He pretended to ignore the whispered bet that followed. Unless Grace had let them in on the plan, he was pretty sure neither of them would win.

mmm

Grace returned shortly afterward, and they headed for a little cafe across town, where they were unlikely to be seen by any of their coworkers. Lisbon and Jane drove together, and once they arrived, Lisbon paused before getting out.

"Something on your mind?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. I want to be honest with them. But we still have to play this for whoever might be watching." She took a deep breath and pulled the ring off, moving it to her left hand.

Jane smiled. "Yes. And if you forget to move it to your right hand once or twice, it'll just make the story more believable. Perfect."

She was beginning to see the danger in her plan: it was too easy for her to start believing the lie. Looking at the ring on her ring finger gave her a giddy feeling that was a little alarming. He hadn't asked her to marry him, after all. And she didn't want to anyway. Did she? It didn't matter, because they couldn't and still work together, and she definitely wasn't prepared to stop working with him.

This had to be cultural conditioning, she thought. Girls were led to believe that an engagement ring meant happiness, even though it could just as easily lead to a lifetime of disappointment. She didn't remember feeling this way during the brief period she'd worn Greg's ring—it had mostly made her anxious. She was a little afraid of what that meant.

She couldn't get sucked into some romantic dream, because she was not living in a romance novel. She doubted those had serial killers in them, or leading men still in love with their dead wives.

"Don't overthink this," Jane advised.

"Right." She opened the car door and got out. Jane caught up to her just in time to usher her through the door, and they joined the others. Once they got the business of ordering drinks and sandwiches taken care of, there was a somewhat awkward pause.

Lisbon smiled at them, hoping she looked more at ease than she felt. "First of all, I want to thank you for everything you've done these last few months. I know it hasn't been easy, and it's no fun having the FBI poking around. I'm glad we all get a break over Christmas, and I hope you all have a great time, whatever your plans." She paused, considering how to say what she needed to. "I wish I could tell you we'll have a fresh start in the new year, but until Red John gets tired of us, we have to keep doing what we're doing. So, uh, I have to ask you not to make plans for Valentine's Day, because we're having a wedding."

Rigsby grinned and held out his hand to Cho, who looked skeptical. "Real, or fake?"

"Fake," Lisbon hurried to say. "Of course. But Red John has to think it's real. And it has to be as big a secret as possible, because if we were really getting married, that's how we'd have to do it. But it can't be so secret he doesn't find out about it." God, the more she explained, the worse it got. This was as bad as one of Jane's convoluted schemes.

Cho nodded. "So we have to accidentally on purpose talk about it where we can be overheard. Got it."

Rigsby looked a little crestfallen at not being able to collect on whatever bet he had with Cho, but he said, "Who else is in on it?"

"No one. Just us. Everyone else has to believe the story. We don't know what channels of communication Red John has," Lisbon said.

"But you have to get a minister, right?" Rigsby pointed out.

Lisbon groaned a little at the thought of trying to explain this to a priest. She was sure fake marriage was something the church would frown on. "I suppose we do."

"So," Rigsby said, "it's a good thing I have one of those online ordination things. Have to check to see if it's still good, I guess."

They all stared at him, and he said, "What? It was a dare, back when I was new on the force down in San Diego. Hey, do you have the beach picked out? I could recommend some."

Cho said, "You did it to pick up women, didn't you?"

"Oh," Grace said in disgust, "that didn't really work, did it?"

Jane was grinning like a maniac at poor Rigsby's sheepish expression. "Uh, not really," Rigsby admitted. "And the ones that did go for it were mostly into weird stuff."

Everyone contemplated that for a second, until Lisbon decided to put the conversation back on track. "Thanks, Rigsby. If you are really allowed to marry people—in a traceable way that Red John can confirm—that would make things a lot easier."

"I'll make sure it's still good. If it's not, I'll just do it again," he replied.

Jane said, "Excellent. That saves me the awkward decision of which one of you should be best man. No bachelor party necessary, Cho."

"Good," Cho said. "Taking the boss' fiancé out to a strip club is not a good career move."

"As long as nobody gets arrested, I'm not worried. This is fake, remember?" Lisbon reminded them.

Grace said, "That ring isn't. Can I see?"

Lisbon reluctantly held out her left hand, and Grace eyed the ring with a critical eye, then smiled at Jane. "You had to play a lot of poker to pay for that."

Jane shrugged. "Fake or not, I have a reputation to consider. I'd never buy Lisbon a cheap engagement ring."

"And we'd never throw you a shoddy wedding," Grace said. "I have the flowers taken care of and a couple of dresses picked out that might work, but I'll wait to get mine until you find yours, Boss, so they work together."

"I don't have to rent a tux, do I?" Cho asked.

"No," Lisbon said. "We want to leave as little paper trail as possible. A nice suit is fine."

"No ties," Jane said. "Beach wedding means we can be a little casual."

Rigsby grinned. "If it's fake, we don't have to buy you a vase or a toaster or something, right?"

"Please don't," Lisbon said. "Don't get carried away. This isn't for real."

Grace said, "But it's easier for us if we treat it like it's real. So. Bridal shower?"

"Oh God no," Lisbon exclaimed, appalled. "Don't you dare."

"But it would be so much fun. We could do a lingerie shower." Grace's straight face didn't last long, and Lisbon reflected that getting fake married wasn't doing her any favors in maintaining the respect of her team.

"If you do," Lisbon threatened, "it'll be next Christmas before you get out in the field again."

Their lunch arrived, and Lisbon was relieved when Jane changed the subject to the ideal texture of bacon in a club sandwich, which was, apparently, dependent on the crispness of the lettuce and the ripeness of the tomato. From there, they got to talking about Christmas plans, giving Grace the chance to show her pictures of the new nephew she was going to meet. Rigsby had decided to accept Sarah's invitation to visit her family so he could be with his son for the actual day, and Cho was meeting some friends in San Francisco. No one asked what Lisbon and Jane were up to, but she figured the lack of questions meant they guessed something close to the truth.

Lisbon reflected on the drive back to the office that beneath all the deception and manipulation, at least she and Jane had a solid foundation of friendship. On occasions when she wasn't able to be with her family for the holiday, he'd often coaxed her into meeting him for a drink or a meal, or at least whiled away the lonely evening hours after it was too late for her to talk to anyone back east chatting away on the phone. This wouldn't be so different, except this time they could add sex to their activities.

"You're very quiet," Jane remarked.

"I don't always bother to decorate for Christmas," she said. "But do you want to?"

"I haven't in years," he said after a moment.

She realized he probably had memories of decorating the tree with his family that might make a painful contrast to doing it with her. "It's all right," she said. "We don't have to. I don't have much anyway. I still use an artificial tree I got in college that someone was going to throw away. We can do better next year."

"No, we should do it. It's our first Christmas," he said thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "I'm almost afraid to tell you how much I like hearing you talk about next Christmas together as if it's a foregone conclusion."

"Isn't it?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Yes. As far as I'm concerned. But then, I have a history of successful commitment."

She sighed. "And I don't."

"Not romantically, perhaps. But I of all people should give you credit for your incredible willingness to stick with me through thick and thin." He smiled. "So this year we will have a simple Christmas, and then next year, when Red John will hopefully either be caught or have gotten bored watching us be happy together, we will buy a big tree and all the decorations it can hold."

She couldn't help smiling too. "I like it. Next year."

mmm

Their Christmas probably did look boring from the outside, she reflected more than once in the days that followed. She pulled out her little four-foot tree, to which Jane said in dismay, "How are we supposed to make love under that?"

She laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not a big fan of carpet burn anyway."

"Nobody said you had to be on the bottom," he replied, pouting a little.

"Next year," she promised.

It became their refrain: next year they would do things differently, bigger, better. She hoped it was true.

On Christmas Eve, she got ready to go to mass, assuming she was going by herself. But at the last minute, Jane became fidgety and declared he was going with her.

"Why?" she asked, perplexed. Just minutes ago he had been planning to make some preparations for tomorrow's big dinner.

He looked like he was trying to think of a convincing story, so she folded her arms and stared him down, trying to convey the idea that if he lied to her before walking across the threshold of a church, he might get struck by lightning. Or her.

Sighing in defeat, he admitted, "It's late and dark, and I know you can take care of yourself, but he has a twisted sense of humor. I'll just sit here and worry the whole time you're gone, so I might as well go with you and save myself the stress."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Jane, I know this is something you think is a big delusion for gullible people, but it means something to me. If you go, you have to promise to behave."

"I will sit quietly and do what you tell me." He smiled with false cheer. "And look at it this way: this could be your chance to save my soul, which you've wanted to do for years. Admit it."

"That's going to take more than one trip," she pretended to grumble as they went out the door.

She got her Christmas miracle: Jane behaved impeccably and didn't even make any snide remarks on the drive home. So she was happy to reward him when they got home, and afterward she reflected on the vast differences between falling asleep this very early Christmas morning in Jane's arms and last year lying awake on her brother's sofa bed, wondering what Jane was doing. She hoped next year would be even better, though at the moment she was having a hard time figuring out how it could be, beyond Red John leaving them alone. Of course, that would be a pretty big thing to celebrate in itself.

Of course, her thoughts about Jane weren't nearly so affectionate when he shook her awake at dawn to open presents. He was a little too in touch with his inner child, she decided as she grumbled her way down the stairs, insisting on having a cup of coffee before the unwrapping began.

She was surprised to see two boxes with her name on them, since the ring was more than enough gift on its own. But then, she'd also slipped an extra box for him under the tree to join the kitchen gadgets and roasting pan he'd wrapped for himself from her. She made him wait to open that until last, enjoying the anticipation of his reaction.

She was glad to see he hadn't gone overboard with her other gifts: a nice wallet to replace hers, which she'd complained was falling apart just last week, and a pair of modest diamond stud earrings "for when you get tired of the emeralds." She smiled indulgently as he told her all about the various attributes of the roasting pan he was planning to use for their cornish hens a little later, growing more nervous as he worked his way through the other gifts he already knew about. Then at last he was pulling the ribbon gleefully off the last box.

"Hm, clothes, I'd say," he said, hefting the box. "Did you buy me a new vest? I told you you didn't have to—" He broke off as he lifted the emerald green silk out, looking puzzled as he realized it was a halter-neck evening gown. "Um, I don't think this is my size."

She grinned. "It was the only thing I had to wrap. I got tickets to a New Year's ball in Seattle, booked the airfare and hotel and put in for our leave. And I know you already have a tux. So we're all set. You said you wanted to go dancing, and I figured nobody would know us that far north."

His smile was one she'd seen only a few times: big and joyful and not at all concerned with what effect it might have. Then he looked at the gown with new interest. "It's perfect. Especially because I don't see how you could possibly wear underwear with this."

She smiled back. "I thought you'd like it."

"I love it. And I love you," he said, folding the dress back into the box carefully and pulling her into his arms for a long, slow, wet kiss. When he pulled back, it was to murmur, "Are you sure I can't talk you into a tryst under the tree?"

She chuckled against his lips. "Next year," she promised. "This year, we go back upstairs until it's time to put dinner on."

So they did.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **This is another mostly fluffy holiday installment before we go back to the creepy serial killer side of the plot. There's an M-ish section in the middle, which is marked off with bold mmm's if you don't care for that kind of thing. It's a long chapter, but I'm headed off for a business trip so I wanted to leave you all in a nice happy place for this short hiatus. Thanks for reading, and hopefully I'll see you back here late next week!

**Chapter 23**

They caught only one case between Christmas and New Year's, a death that looked like a murder but turned out to be an accident. Jane was grateful he'd been paying attention; he didn't want anything to interfere with the promised trip to Seattle.

Grace returned from Iowa full of news about her new nephew and the seeming horde of other nieces and nephews and cousins she possessed, but Jane noticed that when she wasn't talking about them, she had a kind of wistfulness about her. And she had acquired a certain speculative look when glancing at Rigsby. He supposed he and Lisbon were setting a bad example for those two, who'd been forced to play by the rules. It made him think seriously about how he was going to deal with it when he and Lisbon were inevitably faced with the same choice.

He supposed he could go be a security consultant at a casino, or even a bank, but that would bore him to tears. And he didn't want to leave the CBI. Lisbon certainly wasn't going to. So he needed to figure out how to ensure they slid through the little loophole left by his status as a consultant instead of an agent. Bertram would most certainly point out that even if it weren't technically against the rules, it was definitely an ethical violation and would put Lisbon's ability to properly supervise him in question. Not that anyone else could supervise him either, he thought to himself. He would make damn sure of that, if necessary. Again.

Then the solution dawned on him, and he laughed aloud at how brilliant it was. He would tell Bertram the truth, only Bertram would assume it was a lie because it was so self-serving on Jane's part. And so would Red John, in the event that Bertram couldn't keep his mouth shut. And in a way, the lie was the truth too, as far as Jane was concerned. Lisbon seemed to be the only one who couldn't quite believe their wedding ought to be real.

Jane pondered whether he should take Lisbon with him for this little confessional, and then he thought more about the timing of it. He should wait and do it closer to the wedding, he realized. He'd show Lisbon the time of her life in Seattle, and then she'd be more amenable to handing their boss the truth knowing he'd take it for a lie.

Heh. It was perfect. She couldn't object to telling the truth, could she? And the more she protested, the more uncomfortable she got, the more Bertram would be convinced they were lying. But he'd have little choice but to let them continue their plan to string Red John along even if he thought they were using that as a cover to get married under his nose. Jane rubbed his hands together gleefully. He couldn't wait.

But he would, because first he wanted to concentrate on their trip. He wondered if he should be concerned about seeming too excited, then decided that this was Lisbon's Christmas gift to him, so it wouldn't hurt for her to know how much he liked it. The best part, to his mind, was that she'd actually taken time off work for it. He couldn't wait to have her all to himself for more than just a night, dancing and drinking and greeting room service in nothing but a hotel robe.

That thought kept him happy even when Lisbon dashed his hopes of airborne snuggling by reminding him there were people from Sacramento on the plane, some of whom might recognize them. He had to wait until they were in the taxi in Seattle to put his arm around her.

It was raining when they arrived, but he didn't care. He hadn't been here for years, and that had been to do a show, so he'd never seen much of the city. It didn't seem the weather to play tourist, but from the eager way Lisbon was looking out the cab window, he bet she wouldn't agree. "Ever been here?" he asked.

"No, but I've always wanted to. I booked the extra day so maybe we could see some of the city tomorrow, after we sleep in." She looked at him hopefully.

He kept his expression neutral, and was amused and intrigued when he saw her thinking turn to ways she could persuade him. Then he gave in. "Sure. What time do we have to be there tonight?"

"Dinner's at eight, the bar opens at seven," she replied. "I want an hour to get ready. So we don't really have time tonight. Have you been here before?"

"A long time ago, and not for long. Don't worry; tomorrow I'm all yours."

She gave him a saucy smile. "I thought you were all mine all the time."

He chuckled. "Greedy, aren't we? That works both ways, you know."

"I'm aware." She waggled her ring at him. "You're the one who gets to mark your territory, after all."

"Just until the wedding. Then I'll be happily marked as well." He kissed her, hoping she could see he was serious. He missed wearing a ring, especially when he was out alone, like at the grocery store. He was out of practice fending off women without a ring as an ironclad excuse. And if he was completely honest, he missed having that reminder that someone had valued him enough to go through the trouble of getting dressed up and putting it on his finger as a promise.

He knew he shouldn't be insecure about their relationship; if Lisbon were going to cut him loose, she'd have done it by now. That she'd taken him back after Vegas still filled him with awe. And now that he was doing his best to demonstrate the benefits of having him around, he knew she didn't regret it. He didn't have to worry about her pining for her freedom, since she'd never much liked dating. Once he convinced her they could solve the Bertram problem, he thought there were at least even odds she would come around to the idea of marrying him for real.

She beamed at him as they separated, then turned to look out the window again. She rarely took vacations, he realized, and the last time they'd been on a trip together, they'd been dealing with selling the house and trying to work out what Red John had put in her head. No, he wouldn't try to convince her of anything right now, he resolved. He would just make sure she enjoyed herself as much as possible for as long as possible.

mmm

Lisbon couldn't help being nervous as she got dressed, no matter how much she told herself there was no reason to. The only other formal events she went to normally were charity benefits where everyone knew she was a cop, and she didn't need to impress anyone. She supposed she shouldn't worry about impressing strangers she'd never see again either, but Jane in a tux was a sight to behold, and she wanted to look like she belonged on his arm.

Her daring choice of gown was also a problem. It had been exciting to daydream about, but she hadn't anticipated how exposed it would make her feel to go braless and without underwear. And she worried that wearing her cross in an outfit that exposed this much of her chest was a little contradictory, to say the least.

She was putting on her earrings when Jane sauntered in, everything in place except his bow tie. "Wow," he said, stopping to stare. Then he gave her his most blinding smile. "You, my dear, should be classified as a controlled substance in that dress. Positively intoxicating."

"You look pretty intoxicating yourself," she replied, smiling too. Then she turned back to the mirror and frowned.

"Oh, no," Jane said. "You have nothing to scowl at, Teresa. Whatever slight imperfection you've fixated on, I guarantee you no one is going to notice it."

"I don't think the cross works," she sighed. She glanced at him hopefully. "If you bought me a necklace to go with these earrings, now would be the time to give it to me."

"Ah, so deep down you really do believe I'm a mind reader," Jane grinned, standing beside her and using the mirror to tie his tie. "Sorry, darling. Just go without. That long strip of exposed skin is meant to be appreciated without distractions anyway."

"What's with the endearments?" she asked, deciding he was right about the necklace and removing it reluctantly.

"Practicing." He was grinning ear to ear now. "I can't wait to introduce you as my lovely fiancée. I plan to do it at every opportunity, crushing the hopes of all those hapless men lusting after you from afar."

She rolled her eyes, but she had to admit it was oddly liberating being so far from home and among strangers. She could play this game if she liked, without fear of consequences. In fact, on the off chance that Red John's reach extended this far, she _should_ play this for all it was worth. So for tonight, she wasn't CBI Agent Teresa Lisbon. She was Teresa, Patrick's lovely fiancée.

_Well,_ she thought, smiling at her reflection, _let's go have some fun._

mmm

The free-flowing champagne enhanced the heady sensation of dancing with Jane so closely it felt more like foreplay, and she found she also enjoyed the envious glances they drew. Jane was good at blending when he wanted to be, and he drew them into brief, friendly chats with other couples when they weren't dancing, introducing himself as a drama teacher at a community college and her as a cop. She was a little puzzled at his cover story for himself, but unsurprised by his choice for her. He always said she couldn't act like anything but a cop, even though she felt like an entirely different person tonight. Maybe Lovely Fiancée could have been a kindergarten teacher or a surgeon or an airline pilot, she thought with a little thrill of rebellion.

She'd never seen Jane like this, and it gave her a glimpse into how he must have been when he was Angela's husband. They would have gone to parties like this, she guessed. Of course he might have been trolling for clients back then, so maybe Angela hadn't enjoyed it quite as much as she was.

It dawned on her that the man she was dancing with and the man Angela had been married to were not the same person. If the jerk he'd been in his fugue state was any indication, she had the better version by far. Maybe Jane meant it when he said she wasn't second best; maybe he'd buried the person he'd been in his wife's coffin and the new one really did love her without reservation, without pining for what he'd lost. Much.

Maybe she'd had too much champagne to be thinking about this. Lovely Fiancée didn't withdraw into herself to think about grief and love when there was dancing to be done and a gorgeous man intent on making sure she had the best time possible, she reminded herself.

"You okay?" he murmured into her ear as they swayed to a slow song, leaning into each other.

"Mm hm." She lifted her head to smile at him. "You having a good time, Patrick?"

He smiled broadly at her use of his given name, which she'd been making an effort at tonight. "Oh, yes. Not as good as we'll have later, though."

"I can't think of a better way to start the year off," she agreed. "Maybe we can do this again next year."

"I'm on board with that."

She dropped her head to his shoulder again, and he nuzzled her neck, making her giggle a little. Lovely Fiancée was a giggler, but perhaps that was because of all the champagne she'd drunk.

The slow song ended, and she gave a little moan of protest at having to leave the warm circle of Jane's arms to walk off the dance floor. But instead of music beginning for another dance, the emcee started yammering into the microphone. He was giving her a headache.

"It's almost time," Jane told her, sounding amused. "We'll do the countdown, scandalize everybody with our X-rated kiss, and get out of here so we can start our private celebration."

"Oh. Good." She blinked. "Can you teach me that biofeedback thing you're doing?" He'd had just as much to drink, but he was steady on his feet and seemed to have his normal reflexes.

"Not here and now. But I will sometime, if you really want to learn." He slid his hand around to rest in the small of her back. It was a gesture she was used to, except that there had always been fabric between his hand and her spine before. And he usually didn't rub his fingers along her vertebrae, occasionally dipping beneath the waistline of the dress like he was thinking about tugging it off her.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, content to stand there with him until everyone began chanting the countdown. Jane joined in with enthusiasm, and she smiled at the pleasure he seemed to take in it. This was probably the first time he'd really celebrated New Year's since Red John had come into his life. It was a pretty far cry from her usual routine of ice cream and watching the ball drop on tv, as well. This new tradition was better for both of them.

"Two! One!" Jane bellowed with the rest of the crowd, and Lisbon joined in the "Happy New Year!" that followed. Then she flung herself at Jane and did her very best to kiss him senseless. He returned the favor, and she felt him smiling as his fingers flexed against her bare back, pressing their bodies even closer together.

"Let's go," she whispered as they parted.

He grinned at her, eyes bright with happiness and anticipation, then ushered her out the door. They paused at the coat check to pick up the black cloth knee-length coat that looked so drab against her dress, but was the best she had. He helped her into it, smoothing his hand down her back, then took her hand and led her into the elevator.

They were the first to leave the party, so they had the elevator to themselves for the long ride down. Lovely Fiancée liked to get frisky in elevators, Lisbon decided, pressing herself up against Jane with what she hoped was a seductive smile.

"You," Jane chuckled, "are thoroughly and adorably drunk, Agent Lisbon."

"I'm not Agent Lisbon tonight."

"Oh?" He looked intrigued.

"No. I'm Patrick's Lovely Fiancée."

"I am delighted to meet you," he said, letting his voice go low and husky and sending shivers down her spine. "And I do hope you are planning to stay for a while. Not too long though," he added in a more normal voice. "I miss my Teresa if we're apart too long."

"Oh, don't worry. She's just on vacation." She didn't want him laughing at her, dammit. She played along with his games all the time—why couldn't he play along with hers? "She needed a vacation, you know."

"Oh, I know," he agreed. "But she'll be home before bedtime, right?" He put his lips against her ear. "Because she is absolutely amazing in bed."

Lisbon smiled, turning to nip at his earlobe. "I'm better."

"Oh?"

"Less inhib—insib—insibitited," she said, then frowned. "You know what I mean. Less upright. Uptight."

Jane looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and he wisely remained silent until the elevator doors opened and they regretfully separated.

**mmm**

Jane slipped a tip to the doorman, who hailed a cab for them, and soon they were snuggled up in the back seat, watching the city slide past in the damp night. Lisbon whispered, "I was a good girl, you know. I never made out in the back seat of a car."

He looked at her as if he couldn't decide whether she was lying. "We should remedy that," he whispered back.

With some difficulty, she settled herself on his lap, pressing her chest against his as she leaned forward to kiss him. His nimble fingers unbuttoned her coat and slid beneath the fabric of her dress, kneading and stroking and pinching until she squirmed, moaning into his mouth.

"How bad a girl is my lovely fiancée?" he murmured against her lips.

"Oh, let's find out," she breathed.

His eyes lit up, and he held her gaze as he slid his hands up her chest and around her neck until his fingers found the fastener at the back of the collar. He hesitated, giving her time to stop him, his smile turning sly when he realized she wasn't going to.

Then he undid the fastener, and the fabric slid down over her breasts, leaving her naked under her coat from the waist up.

The teeny tiny part of her brain that was hanging onto the last shred of sobriety babbled about public nudity, indecent exposure, and other inconsequential matters, but most of her was lost in the exhilaration of his hungry gaze. His fingers came to rest on her shoulders before sliding downwards at a tortuously slow pace, causing her eyes to slide closed.

She realized belatedly that she shouldn't be having all the fun here, so she slid her own fingers down his shirt front, past his belt. Oh, he was plenty excited too, she realized as his hips bucked at her touch.

His voice was hoarse. "That should probably wait, darling."

"It doesn't feel like it wants to wait," she replied, pouting at him.

"Ooh, you really are a bad girl," he said, swallowing hard and trying to regain his composure. Then he went back to work on her breasts, successfully distracting her.

Under any other circumstances, she would have been embarrassed to realize she was making little mewing sounds, but somehow it seemed like something Lovely Fiancée did all the time. Maybe she also had mind-melting orgasms at second base, she thought hopefully. It seemed a distinct possibility.

"Darling, stop moving," Jane gulped in her ear. He moved his hands to her waist to try to hold her still.

"No," she whined, jutting her lower lip out. He closed his eyes with a pained expression.

"Here you are," the cabbie announced, unnecessarily loud in Lisbon's opinion.

Jane's eyes sprang open, and he reached for his wallet, hurriedly fishing out some bills and handing them forward. From the hearty thanks the driver gave, she gathered he'd tipped very generously, possibly unintentionally.

"Button up, sweetheart. It's cold out there," Jane said in an almost normal voice. He tried to button up her coat, but his hands were shaking.

Lisbon knew she wouldn't fare any better, so she simply wrapped the coat around her and held it closed as Jane opened the car door. She carefully slid out, relieved when she found her unsteady legs would hold her, and stood shivering while Jane composed himself enough to get to his feet. She was suddenly miserable: it was cold and wet out here after the heat of his lap, and the lining of her coat felt unpleasantly abrasive against her nipples, which were hypersensitive after his lavish attention.

Jane noticed her distress, sliding an arm around her and pulling her close as they walked into the hotel lobby. Of course, maybe he was trying to make sure she didn't fall, because she was stumbling a little. He was walking pretty slowly, but then she was surprised he could walk at all with a hard-on like that.

Lovely Fiancée might walk through hotel lobbies half naked under an unfastened coat all the time, but Lisbon found it an unpleasant sensation. She was relieved when they reached the elevators, but unhappy that another couple ducked into theirs at the last minute.

Jane was uncharacteristically quiet, standing in the back corner and anchoring her against him with both arms. When they reached their floor, they managed to stagger out together. Lisbon hoped they looked drunk rather than too horny to walk.

It took him three tries to get the key inserted the right way, swatting away her attempt to take it away from him. When they finally managed to half-fall across the threshold, Jane groaned, "Thank God," and closed the door by pushing her up against it.

She realized he was trying to push her skirt up and quickly reached behind her to undo the short zipper at her waist, letting the dress fall to the floor.

"Brilliant," he panted, unzipping his fly and putting them both out of their misery.

Lisbon was running so hot she came on his third thrust, and he lasted only seconds longer. They clung to each other, trying to catch their breaths, until Jane said, "You must be studying witchcraft in your spare time, because you've managed to turn me back into a horny teenager. I honestly thought I was going to die if I didn't have you that very second."

She began laughing. "I'm still wearing my coat!"

His expression turned rueful. "That's not going to reside in the Smooth Moves gallery of the memory palace, for sure."

She shrugged, unable to stop smiling. "Lovely Fiancée likes a good hard fuck up against the door now and then."

Jane sputtered with laughter. "She has a dirty mouth, too. What happened to 'sheep dip'?"

"I gotta get these stupid shoes off," she muttered, lifting a foot and trying to undo the strap of her sandal. The first one came off easily, but she struggled with the second, hopping around until she could brace herself against the wall with one hand.

Jane watched in fascination. "Can I help you off with that coat, or are you planning to wear it to bed?"

"You wearing your tux to bed?" she retorted.

"Point taken," he said, shrugging out of his jacket. "Come on. I'm tucking you in to make sure you don't hurt yourself between here and the bed."

"Bathroom," she replied, weaving in that general direction.

**mmm**

They did an abbreviated version of their usual bedtime routine and crawled into bed. Lovely Fiancée slept in the nude, Lisbon decided, because she was too tired to dig her jersey out of her suitcase. Plus, Jane seemed to be enjoying all the nudity, and this trip was his Christmas present, after all.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked as they lay face to face in the dark.

"I did," he replied. He reached for her left hand and rubbed a finger over her ring. "I really did."

"Good," she said. "So did I." She closed her eyes, yawning, and began drifting off.

"I want this to be real," he whispered.

"What?" She opened her eyes, but she couldn't make out his expression in the darkness.

"I want this to be real." He squeezed her left hand gently. "I want to be the man who's over the moon because he's going to marry you. I want to tell you all my daydreams about our life together and not have you look at me like a deer in the headlights. I—I know you're not ready, Teresa, but just—just tell me that it's real. Just lie to me. In the dark I might not be able to tell."

Her heart squeezed painfully. He must be a little drunk after all, she thought, because he hardly ever let himself be that vulnerable, even with her.

"We are real," she whispered. "You and me, us, together—we're real." She swallowed and tried her best to do what he asked. He shouldn't be able to tell whether she was lying if she didn't know herself, right? "And we're going to have a beautiful wedding on the beach and move into a ridiculously expensive apartment with a big kitchen and a doorman and a state of the art security system. And then, if you want, we can try to have a baby. I–I might not be able to, at my age, but we can try."

Oh God, where did that come from? She was absolutely, insanely drunk. They had agreed there was no way they were going to think about kids while Red John was out there. Was this still that stupid idea he had put in her head? "I'm drunk," she mumbled, embarrassed.

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. "Is that what you want to be real?"

The "no" stuck on her tongue as she remembered that moment at Rigsby's father's wake, when Ben had pulled her hair and Jane had smiled at her as he intervened. That thought she hadn't let herself finish about what it would be like if she was the important person in Jane's life, if they tried to build a family together, had never completely left her. What that really what she wanted?

Jane said softly, "Don't think about the reasons you think you can't have it. What we want isn't bound by possibility, or even probability. Is that what you want?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she knew he could hear them in her voice. "I never let myself want it."

"Lisbon never lets herself want it. What does Teresa, my lovely fiancée, want?" he persisted.

"I want my happily ever after. But this isn't a goddamn fairy tale, and there's no such thing." She tried to sound firm, but it came out bitter.

"This could be our life, Teresa," he said. "We could walk away from him, run off to Monte Carlo or someplace and spend our nights in casinos and parties and our days in bed together. Buy a little house overlooking the sea and laugh when our kids make fun of our American accents when we try to speak French."

Lovely Fiancée might think that was a plausible idea—she was the type to hang out in casinos and sunbathe topless on the deck of a yacht—but in the end, she wasn't real. And even drunk, Teresa Lisbon knew exactly why this daydream would never work. "You think he'd just let us walk away, and not retaliate, try to draw us back in? How many of our friends and family would he have to kill before we gave up and came back? He'd start with the team, or my family. How much of that do you think I could stand?"

He let out a long sigh. "None. All right. Fine. Can we please not talk about serial killers in bed?"

She swallowed a retort about how a serial killer was the reason they were in bed together. That would hurt him, and it wasn't really true. What Red John had done to her may have been the impetus, but their relationship was something they'd made themselves, stitching it together over the years with trust and forgiveness and need and attraction. "You meant the wedding. That's what you want to be real."

"The marriage, if you want to be precise. You are too drunk to talk about this. We can do it in the morning."

"Right, because I'm so chatty when I'm hung over," she replied. "Jane, you know why we can't—"

"No, Lisbon, I don't. Because there is no 'can't.' There's only 'won't.' We can find a way around anything as long as we both want to." He took a deep breath, and she could feel him trying to get himself under control. "It's okay. I know you're not ready. I can't tell you that you get to pick the time and then get mad at you for not moving fast enough."

"You shouldn't, but you do," she said slowly, working it out for herself.

"Yeah, well, I'll get over it. Good night." He rolled over with his back to her.

She splayed her left hand on his back, knowing he could feel the ring pressing into his skin. "I'm not going anywhere, Jane. I'm here with you because I want to be. Just...try to be patient with me. I'll get there when I get there."

He sighed and rolled back over, pulling her against his chest. "I hate that I can't give you the things you want because of him. That you can't even risk being honest with yourself or me about what that is because you're afraid of him. It feels like the same damn trap we've been stuck in for years, and I want us out of it."

"I do too," she whispered. "But how?"

He tightened his arms around her. "We have to think of something." He yawned. "In the morning."

"In the morning," she echoed. "Good night, Patrick."

"Good night, Teresa."

mmm

Jane woke up early the next morning, groaning at the bright light when he peeked outside to see a beautiful day unfolding. Digging around in Lisbon's toiletries bag, he found the bottle of aspirin and took two, using one of the bottles of water the hotel thoughtfully provided in the bathroom. Biofeedback was a wonderful thing, but sometimes it was best to have a little pharmaceutical help.

He took the other water bottle out to the nightstand and left it there with two more aspirin in case Lisbon woke up while he was in the shower.

He'd mostly dealt with his tux last night, but her dress was still in a shining puddle in front of the door, so he retrieved it and hung it up in the closet. He certainly wanted to see that again someday, so it behooved him to make sure it didn't get damaged, he thought with a smile.

It occurred to him to hang the "do not disturb" tag on the door, since they'd forgotten last night, and then he had a quick shower. He hated coffeemaker tea, but that was all that was available until he got around to ordering room service, so he removed the filter basket, poured some water in to heat, and tossed both the tea bags the hotel provided into the coffeepot.

After getting dressed, he perused the room service menu. This would be his first experience with a Lisbon hangover, but he was betting she wasn't going to feel like eating for a while, so he ordered himself the eggs Benedict and a pot of tea, along with an orange juice, toast, and a latte for Lisbon.

The nasty coffeepot tea helped him wake up, but he drank it as quickly as possible to avoid tasting it. Fortunately, room service arrived shortly afterward so he could savor the real thing, along with the perfectly cooked eggs.

As he'd predicted, the smell of the latte penetrated even Lisbon's dead-to-the-world state, and he dabbed egg off his mouth and went over to the bed. "Hey, sleepyhead," he said, keeping his voice soft. "Sit up for a second."

She groaned and swatted at him, but he lifted her into a mostly sitting position, even though she immediately slumped against him with a pitiful moan. "You'll thank me later," he assured her, handing her the aspirin. When she'd put the tablets in her mouth, he handed her the opened bottle of water. "Drink the whole thing, and you'll feel better."

When she'd finished off the water, he handed her the glass of orange juice. "Now this."

"Just let me die in peace," she grumbled.

"Never." He meant it, too. If she was ever going to leave him for death, it was going to be amidst kicking, screaming, and whatever else he could think of. But he knew she would seriously attempt to kill him if he started on that subject while her head hurt so badly.

When she finished the orange juice, she said, "I smell coffee."

"Yes, you do. The caffeine will help your headache." And the milk would substitute for the breakfast she wasn't eating, he hoped.

She lay down again after she drank most of the latte, and he gently threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and paying particular attention to the pressure points that would help her feel better. In no time at all she was asleep again, snoring a little.

He smiled down at her. She was a complete mess, with her hair stiff from the hairspray she'd used to make it stay in its updo and sticking out in all directions and a random spray of glitter on one shoulder. Her pale skin had a slight greenish tinge to it, and he hoped she would sleep through the worst of the nausea, though he wouldn't count it a hardship to hold her hair while she vomited. He was thoroughly, ridiculously besotted with her, and even if she threw up on his much-loved shoes he would still think she was the most beautiful and precious thing in his life. Even the laugh lines and crows feet she hated were unspeakably dear to him.

However, even a man insanely in love can only watch the woman he loves snore for so long before wanting a change, so eventually he put the room service tray outside the door and settled in for a nice morning read.

mmm

The next time Lisbon woke up, she seemed more like herself, with just a slightly elevated level of early-morning-grumpy. Jane had the coffeemaker set up, so he switched it on and took care not initiate conversation until he brought her the mug to sip.

"Why did you let me drink so much?" she accused about halfway through the cup.

"You were having a fabulous time. And in my defense, I didn't realize how drunk you were until it was much too late." He kept a straight face, but it took an effort.

"I don't even remember if we kissed at midnight," she said, sounding sad now.

"We did," he assured her. "Quite spectacularly."

She frowned, as if almost remembering. Then she went scarlet. "Oh God. Tell me we did not have sex in a cab."

"We didn't have sex in a cab. We waited until we got back to the room. It was a pretty close call, though," he couldn't help adding.

She groaned, letting her head fall forward onto her knees. Jane refrained from teasing her any further, though he was selfishly relieved she was focusing on the sex rather than the conversation that had followed. He was ashamed of and frustrated with himself for pushing her and then sulking about it—that was exactly the wrong way to handle Lisbon at any time, but particularly about something personal. If he were really lucky, she wouldn't remember that at all.

"Do you still want to go tour the city, or shall we spend the day in bed?" he asked. Either option was fine with him.

Lisbon looked at him, obviously torn herself. "Would you remember the cab driver we had last night?"

Jane concentrated for a moment. Yes, he'd caught a glimpse of the man as they'd gotten in. "Yes. Why?"

"Let's go, then. But we don't get in his cab again." She took one last sip of coffee and slid out of bed, leaving Jane to enjoy the view as she went to get a shower while he snickered very, very quietly at her chagrin.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **I couldn't get this fic out of my head while on my business trip, with the result that you're getting a chapter earlier than I thought, but I'm really sleep deprived so I'm not prepared to vouch for the quality of it! Thank you for your patience during this fic's hiatus. And I read and re-read reviews to keep myself sane between all-day meetings, so heartfelt thanks to all of you who contributed to that!

**Chapter 24**

They were blessed with a partly sunny day for sightseeing, but neither of them had much energy, so they weren't able to get through the ambitious itinerary Lisbon had planned. By four o'clock, they had to admit defeat and settled at a little cafe for caffeine and snacks.

"Next time we go on vacation, I think we should skip the hangover part," Jane remarked, sipping his tea. "Or skip the sightseeing part, I suppose. It's the combination that seems to be problematic."

"Yeah," Lisbon sighed. "Maybe we can come back someday."

"In summer, preferably," he agreed. He reached across the table and took her hand. "But I love my Christmas present. I couldn't have wished for anything better. There's only one problem with it."

Lisbon concealed the pang of hurt beneath sarcasm. "I take it you're not referring to the lawbreaking part of our excursion."

"Lawbreaking? Lisbon, I've been remarkably well behaved in the 24 hours we've been here." Jane seemed perplexed.

"I was referring to the indecent exposure in a cab incident," she informed him.

He grinned. "Oh, that. Nobody saw anything. The problem I was referring to is: how are you going to top that next year?"

"I have a year to think about it." She was distracted by him playing with her hand, rubbing one of his fingers over her ring. It seemed to be a new habit of his, since he no longer wore one to fiddle with when he was anxious or emotional. And it reminded her that he'd done it last night before they fell asleep. She frowned as she remembered their conversation. "Jane." But she was stuck for what to say after that.

"Uh oh," he said, looking closely at her. "What did I do to sink back to last-name status?"

"How drunk were you last night?"

"That depends entirely on why you're asking."

She decided the direct approach was her best option. "Do you really want to get married?"

He blinked, then put on his smarmiest grin. "Why Teresa, is that a proposal?"

"No. Because we can't."

"Ah, but we can. I have a cunning plan to deal with the Bertram problem."

Uh oh. Smug Jane always made her wonder what was about to go wrong. "All right, we'll leave that aside for now. What about the other reasons?"

His grip on her hand tightened, just for an instant, like a reflex. She wondered what had triggered it, but he looked as composed as ever. "Other reasons, my dear? You'll have to spell them out, I'm afraid, because I can't think of any."

"How about the fact that we've only been together for what, two months?"

"Ten weeks," Jane corrected. Mercifully, he didn't add the days, hours, and minutes, although she was certain he could. She wondered exactly when he was counting from. The first time they'd made love at the bed and breakfast? Or when he woke her with a kiss, trying to save her from Red John's twisted trap? Not that those events were all that far apart, she realized.

She dragged her attention back to the present as Jane continued, "But it's not like we were strangers before that. I couldn't begin to guess how many hours we've spent together or how many meals we've shared. We certainly know each other's annoying habits by now. I knew that you snored when you were overtired long before we started sleeping together, and you've certainly had opportunities to observe me in my sleep as well. Admit it, you've been surprised at how few surprises we've had for each other, apart from how incredible the sex is."

It was true they spent more time together at work than most married couples did at home, she thought. Still, there was a difference. "But we don't talk about the important things. I have no idea what you'd want out of marriage."

"You," he said promptly. "Legally and forever. I'm not asking for anything you don't already give me, Teresa. In some ways, it wouldn't make much difference. But in others, it would make all the difference in the world."

"I guess that's the part I don't understand," she admitted. "If not much would change, why is it important?"

He gave her a look she was familiar with from cases: he couldn't believe he had to explain himself because it was so obvious to him. "You know it's important," he said, "or you wouldn't feel so strongly about it."

"It's important to me because it's a religious ceremony," she replied. "I believe I'll be held accountable for any vows I make. But you don't, so you must have some other reason."

"I'm not worried about what some mythical deity might think about it, true," he said, "but I believe I'm accountable to the person I make my vows to. I was never unfaithful to Angela, despite a great many opportunities, and I will be faithful to you despite any temptations I might encounter." He seemed to realize he was getting worked up and deliberately relaxed, adding, "And not just because I'm afraid you'd shoot me if I strayed."

"So you think we need the vows to be faithful to each other?" she frowned.

"No. I think we need the vows to define for ourselves and everyone else what we are to each other." He stopped playing with her hand and gripped it firmly. "Because I know that I'm with you until death parts us, but I don't know that you feel the same."

"I do feel the same," she protested. As alien as the concept seemed at times, she was sure she was with him to the end, because she could not imagine anything that would make her walk away from him.

"Then what difference does it make whether we've been together ten weeks or ten years?"

He was making sense, she thought, but somehow she remained unconvinced.

Jane scrutinized her expression. "Did something happen when you were a girl that made you think your mother felt trapped in her marriage?"

Lisbon blinked in surprise. "I—I don't think so. Not one thing, anyway. It wasn't until I was older that I wondered."

"Ah." Jane looked pleased with himself. "Of course. After you'd raised your brothers and did your best with your father, who never appreciated all you did or even seemed to notice it. You felt trapped, so you started to think your mother must have too. And you extrapolated that to marriage in general. So even though you loved poor Greg enough to say yes when he asked, you panicked at the thought of being trapped again. And then I come along and disrupt your promising career, causing you grief and trouble every time you turn around and making you feel like your options are narrowing. But you fall in love with me anyway, despite your best efforts to avoid it. And you're afraid that marrying me will doom you to another trap, trying to fix a broken man who never even notices how hard you're trying to save him."

She stared at him, not sure how much of that was true or, if it was, what she was supposed to do about it.

"But I do notice, Teresa. I always have," Jane said tenderly. "I haven't always acknowledged it, true. Partly out of selfishness, and partly out of a desire not to encourage you, at least in the beginning. And I will probably always be basically a selfish person who in no way deserves you. The fact that I wasn't strong enough to walk away from you when there was still a chance you would escape unscathed is enough evidence of that."

He paused, looking at their clasped hands, then met her gaze again. "The story I told you about how I proposed to Angela—I told it to you as a funny story, but the truth is, it breaks my heart every time I think about it. Because if she had said no, she'd be alive today. And I can't help wondering if she died wishing she had."

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

"And I can't say I never caused her to regret saying yes, because I know there were times she surely did. I was a selfish bastard who never loved her in the unselfish way she deserved. And maybe the only thing that's changed about me is that I know that now. But I try not to repeat my mistakes, Teresa. I will make mistakes, and some days I'm sure you'll wish you'd never met me. But I will try never to be ungrateful for you, or take you for granted. You're the second chance I never deserved and never thought I'd get."

She found herself blinking back tears. "I don't think you're nearly as selfish as you believe, Jane."

"Oh, I am," he whispered, shaking his head. "But you make me want not to be."

They looked at each other for a moment, until Jane patted her hand and leaned back, regaining his normal nonchalance. "So that's one objection disposed of. Well, two, if I managed to put to rest your fear of committing to me. Do you have any more?"

"Do you really think we can work together and live together without getting on each other's nerves?"

Jane grinned. "We've done okay so far. And I'm sure there will be times you want to get rid of me, but I'm also confident you'll either tell me to go away for a while or send me off with one of the others on some tedious bit of investigation. Next objection."

"I always thought I'd get married in the church."

"Then let's get married in church," he shrugged. "They don't actually require me to convert, do they? Although if they did, I suppose I could take Henri IV as my example. He said that Paris was worth a mass, and I certainly think you are, my dear."

"Please don't pretend to convert," she said, pained at the thought. "I'd rather have you an honest atheist than a churchgoing liar. The thing is, we'd have to get premarital counseling, and I just don't see you sitting through that without starting something we'd all regret."

"Well it does seem odd to take marital advice from someone who's not allowed to marry," Jane pointed out. "I'd know more about it than he would. But I suppose I can endure anything with the right incentive. If we get married in church, are you going to wear something white and frilly?"

"White, maybe. Frilly, no. It's not like this would be anything more than a private ceremony. I'd probably just wear a suit. Though I suppose it would have to have a skirt, at least."

Jane sighed. "None of this sounds particularly attractive to me, Teresa, but since it means so much to you, I will endure it with as good a grace as I can muster. Next objection?"

Why was her mind blank? There had to be more reasons she couldn't marry Jane. It was just ridiculously impossible, after all. Wasn't it? "I'm sure I'll think of more later," she said lamely.

He smiled at her, the affection in his gaze tinged with smugness. "I'm sure you will, my dear."

mmm

The team caught a new case before Lisbon and Jane's plane landed, so they didn't even have time to unpack before they were back in the office listening to Cho catch them up on what they'd missed. Apparently their victim was a frustrated, unpublished novelist whose work did not merit half the time he'd devoted to it, according to Cho's literary critique. So Jane happily took the latest manuscript to look for any clues about the author's real life, despite his colleagues' skepticism.

When they'd finished the briefing and were about to disperse to their appointed tasks, Rigsby said, "Hey, how was your trip?"

Lisbon was just a second too slow to prevent Jane answering. "Oh, I had a great time. I met this Lovely woman who knocked my socks off. She was amazing. Wasn't she, Lisbon?"

The others looked at him in dismayed disbelief, then turned to Lisbon. She rose to the occasion admirably, snarking, "Well, she certainly made an exhibition of herself. I had no idea your taste in women was so flashy, Jane."

"Don't worry, Lisbon. I still like you best," he said in his best patronizing tone.

Grace was looking worried, so Jane winked at her. That seemed to break the tension, and they all got back to work.

mmm

The case dragged on throughout the week, frustrating them all. Jane was more convinced than ever that there was a vital clue in the manuscript, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Lisbon was annoyed that they couldn't seem to find any suspects in the victim's very limited social circle, and she was dismissive of Jane's manuscript-as-clue theory. "It's fiction, Jane. And I can see why. If this guy wrote about his real life—what there was of it—it would be a sleeping pill on paper. Come on, everybody else has gone home."

"I'll stay here a little longer."

She folded her arms and frowned at him. "You're not staying the night, are you?"

As if he would intentionally do that, he thought. Even his beloved couch didn't compare to the delights of Lisbon's bed. "I'll just finish going over this chapter. The protagonist's girlfriend is bugging me. There's a clue here, I know it."

"The girlfriend was apparently the most fictional part of all," Lisbon sighed. "Good night, Jane."

"Good night, Lisbon. Sleep tight," he called after her, settling back down to his reading.

Thirty minutes later, his phone rang. He frowned at being interrupted, but he knew she would worry if he didn't pick up. "Yes, Lisbon? Did you have an inspiration about the case?"

"I need you to come look at something."

He grinned. "Why, Lisbon. Is it something sexy, or are you having delusions about my home repair skills?"

"It's an unmarked envelope with photos inside," she replied, and now he could clearly hear the strain in her voice.

"I'll be right there," he promised, dropping the manuscript on the couch and hurrying toward the elevator.

mmm

Lisbon left the envelope on the table for Jane, putting the photos back inside so she didn't have to look at them while she waited. She should have expected this, she knew. They'd been aware for years that Red John kept close tabs on Jane, and they'd known there was a possibility that they'd be observed on their trip. But Lovely Fiancée didn't think about those things, apparently.

Jane must have driven even more like a maniac than usual; he flung the door open barely fifteen minutes after her call. She pointed to the envelope on the little table near the door, but he came to her first, looking her over and asking, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, but she was sure her body language was saying something different. She handed him a pair of gloves. "I doubt we'll get anything from it, but just in case."

He wrinkled his nose at the gloves and, instead of putting them on, used them like potholders to slide the 8x10s out of the plain brown envelope and spread them on the table. "Ah," was all he said at first. His gaze slid over to her, and he seemed to change his mind about whatever remark he'd almost made. "Well, perhaps there's a trail attached to the professional shot. That had to be purchased, as I recall."

"They probably paid cash on the spot. Obviously whoever took the others was in the room with us," Lisbon pointed out.

"And must have followed us out," Jane agreed. After a moment, he said, "I think there was more than one of them. The person who followed us out couldn't have gotten to our hotel in time to take the shot of you getting out of the cab."

Lisbon couldn't help a shiver. "What's the point of this? Just to let us know we're watched?"

Jane began flipping the photos over. "Ah ha." He held one up. It was a shot of her holding out her left hand for a woman they'd chatted with to more closely inspect her ring. Lisbon had to admit she looked genuinely happy, and the look on Jane's face managed to be both proud and tender. But when Jane showed her the back of the photo, its allure vanished. Written in red marker was "Congratulations" along with the hated smiley face.

"We need to turn these over to the FBI," Lisbon forced herself to say without cringing. She'd had time to steel herself for this, and it was definitely the right thing to do.

"Yes," Jane said unexpectedly. "But we'll take them to Bertram first. They'll be useful props." He looked over the other photos again. "I wonder if we can keep the one of us dancing. I really like it."

"I'd rather have the professional shot. At least that was taken with our consent," she said in a bitter tone. She hated thinking that one of Red John's friends had seen her so drunk, so vulnerable. Such an easy target.

"Mm," Jane said, but she wasn't sure if that signified agreement or was just his way of letting her know he understood. Then he put the photos back in the envelope and came over to put his arms around her.

She returned the embrace gladly, murmuring, "I hate this."

"I'll get to work on finding a more secure place."

"It won't help," she said.

"It might help a little. And he'll enjoy thinking we're afraid of him," Jane said thoughtfully. "Tomorrow, we'll make an appointment to go talk to Bertram. Tell him we've received a message from Red John, and I bet he'll clear a space in his schedule. Once we tell him we're getting married, it won't be long before Red John hears about it. He'll be satisfied with that for a while."

"We're getting fake married," Lisbon insisted, pulling away from his warmth regretfully.

"Naturally," Jane said. "We're getting fake married with a real minister—"

"Rigsby," Lisbon corrected, rolling her eyes.

"—and a real license, because you know Red John's going to check, and it's a matter of public record. So what exactly makes it fake?" Jane tilted his head and looked curiously at her.

"I—the fact that we don't mean it." She was having the sinking feeling she was losing the argument. "That once Red John gets tired of jerking us around, we'll get an annulment."

"On what grounds? It won't be lack of consummation," Jane grinned.

It occurred to Lisbon that going to a priest and explaining that she'd married a man with no intention of staying married to him was probably not going to go over well. And she was a little fuzzy on what reasons were acceptable for annulment. "We'll think of something."

"Certainly," Jane said. His tone was almost cheerful, and his eyes sparkled with laughter. "After twenty or thirty years, I'm sure something will occur to us."

Oh, she had definitely lost the argument. She was going to end up with a tombstone that said "beloved wife." But she was clear on the name that would be above it. "I'm keeping my name."

"Naturally." Jane looked surprised. "It would be far too confusing for everyone to call us both Jane. And I'm fond of your name. I wouldn't want you to change it, to be honest."

"Really?" It was her turn to be surprised. He was so old-fashioned that she'd assumed he'd want her to take his name.

"Really." He paused, then added, "I do want any children to have my last name, though."

"We can negotiate that when and if it becomes relevant," she replied. "What are you planning to do to Bertram? Remember that he can fire us for working the Red John case."

"We're not working the case. We're playing along with a serial killer. If the FBI has any brains, they'll start watching for someone watching us," Jane said. "Interagency cooperation. It's a beautiful thing."

Lisbon groaned. "Oh, great. So now we'll have not only serial killer disciples but also FBI agents scrutinizing our every move."

"Think of it as an entourage," Jane advised. "Of course, sometimes those two roles may reside in one person."

"So what are we telling Bertram?" She wanted to be clear on the plan for a change.

"The truth. Red John wants us to get married. When we didn't take the hint, he killed two innocent people as a clear message to us. We have no choice but to get married, despite your obvious and understandable reluctance. You don't intend it to be real, of course, no matter what I may say or think about it." He grinned. "See? I'm not asking you to stretch the truth even a little bit, for a change. The beautiful part is, Bertram won't believe us, because he's suspicious."

"I can't think why," Lisbon sighed.

"So he'll think you've succumbed to my charms and are marrying me for real, using Red John as an excuse."

Lisbon rubbed at her forehead. The headaches weren't as severe as they'd originally been unless she actively tried to remember him, but she hadn't been able to get rid of them entirely.

"But he'll have no choice but to let us, and not separate us, because Red John wouldn't like that," Jane continued.

Lisbon resigned herself to becoming the most notorious person in the CBI for the foreseeable future. "I guess he wouldn't."

"It's brilliant," Jane chuckled. "I can't wait to see his face when he realizes what's going on." Then he frowned at her. "What's the matter? This plan is foolproof."

"First of all, no plan is foolproof," she retorted. "And second, how far does this go, Jane? He wants us to get married, so we do. He put that damn fixation in my head about having a baby, so he obviously wants that too. Why?" The desperation leaked into her voice. She still struggled with taking her pill every day, kept on schedule only by Jane double checking that she'd done it. Some days she honestly did forget, but was that a result of being busy and keeping odd hours, or a remnant of the urge to get pregnant? She should just get an implant and be done with it, she thought.

Jane's expression sobered. "There are two possibilities. The optimistic one is that he wants to replace what he took from me. He found me with a wife and child, so he'll leave me with a wife and child."

"And the pessimistic one is that he wants you to have another wife and child he can kill, for whatever twisted reason," Lisbon guessed.

"Yes."

"We should have Rigsby dress up as the grim reaper for the wedding," Lisbon muttered. "And there's no freaking way I'm bringing a child into the world with a target on it."

"We're agreed on that," Jane said. "And I wouldn't marry you if I thought it would put you in more danger. But I'm afraid that's impossible at this point. That nightmare I had the other night? He got tired of waiting and killed you so I would be free to find someone who would marry me."

"He knows you better than that," Lisbon said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"He's a sociopath. He can't understand love, not really," Jane said. "We don't know what he sees when he looks at us. But I'm sure it's not what we see."

"Yes," she agreed. "I'm sure about that too." Then she shook her head. "I wonder what Bertram will see."

Jane huffed in amusement. "He'll see what he always sees—me talking you into something extremely unwise. Which is true, in a way. It's just that the other options are even less wise."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Lisbon said drily. Before she met Jane, she'd always thought people said that to excuse their lack of self-discipline. But now she truly understood it.

"Yes, it does." Jane drew her back into his arms and kissed her, just long enough to make her feel warm again. "And I want to make your heart happy, Teresa."

"I know," she whispered. She just wished she was clear on exactly what that would take.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **I'm still sleep deprived, but at least it's almost the weekend. I plan to spend it sleeping and writing. And I was struck by a truly evil idea on my miserable flight home, so there's that. There's nothing like being wedged into a coach seat next to someone who's too big for one to make one think like a serial killer! Not in this chapter though, so relax. :) Thanks to everyone still following this, and especially those of you who take the time to give your feedback. And to the guest reviewer who pointed out that no secure apartment would be safe from Red John, yes, you're right about that. But if I were the one being threatened, I think I'd want to make it as tough for him as possible! (And yes, Jane really just wants a bigger kitchen.)

**Chapter 25**

Bertram grudgingly made room in his schedule for them that afternoon, and when they walked into his office, his expression was already sour. "So," he said before they even had a chance to sit down, "a message from Red John? You're not even on the case anymore."

Jane replied, "I don't think he cares about technicalities. Here." He tossed the envelope of photos on Bertram's desk before seating himself, deliberately casual.

Lisbon hurried to explain as she sat in the other chair in front of Bertram's desk. "Jane and I have suspected for a while now that Red John is still following him. We tested that theory by going to Seattle for New Year's, and last night I received this in the mail."

Jane greatly enjoyed the slightly bug-eyed expression Bertram wore as he looked at the photos. "As you can see, we pretended to be engaged." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lisbon sliding her right hand, the one currently wearing the ring, into her left to conceal it. It seemed to be an unconscious gesture, so he let it pass without comment.

"Why?" Bertram asked.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "Last month, someone subscribed me to a bridal magazine. We weren't able to trace who did it. But we threw it out, and almost immediately afterward, Red John killed again."

"The mother and daughter. Yes." Bertram looked at Jane. "Aimed at you, you think."

"Because we weren't playing along," Jane nodded. "So I went out and bought a ring, and Lisbon's been wearing it. We've been subtle about it at work, of course, but he's definitely noticed. Look at the back of this one." He flipped over the photo with the note on the back.

Bertram's frown grew more pronounced. "Why would Red John care about that?"

"He wants to show me I'm helpless to stop him," Jane said. "What better way to do that than to take away my wife and child again?"

Bertram's gaze snapped to Lisbon. "You're pregnant?"

"No," she said. "But we think that's what comes next. After we get married—pretend to get married."

Oh, that was perfect, Jane thought. Lisbon was going to pull this off with almost no effort on his part, making it all the more likely Bertram would buy it. In fact, his own presence was probably an impediment, because it made Bertram suspicious. "So we wanted to let you in on the plan. We're living together and planning a quiet little wedding, at which we think Red John will probably show up, or send one of his friends. We'll be informing the FBI as well, of course."

Bertram spluttered for a second. "You can't get married!"

"Of course not. I keep telling him that," Lisbon said, giving Jane an annoyed look. "This is all a ruse."

"Well," Jane added, as if seized by a fit of honesty, "the sex isn't."

Both Bertram and Lisbon looked at him as if he'd pulled a hedgehog out of his pocket. Lisbon hissed, "Jane!"

"What?" Jane said innocently, enjoying himself. "He should be happy that his best agent is more productive because she's eating healthy home-cooked meals and having regular orgasms."

"Jane!" That was more of a yelp, and she was turning bright tomato-red. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, he realized.

Bertram had turned an interesting shade of red as well. "Let's leave the personal details out of this. I already have to reprimand Agent Lisbon for inappropriate conduct based on this conversation so far. Do you really want to get her in further trouble?"

"We know Red John is watching us. Closely." Jane put on his best obsessed maniac expression. "You should be commending Lisbon for going above and beyond the call of duty to give us an opportunity to catch him."

"If he's watching that closely, do you think a fake wedding will fool him?" Bertram's forehead was furrowed, which meant he was buying it.

"That's why it's not a fake," Jane said. "But rest assured that Lisbon has every intention of divorcing me at the earliest safe moment."

"Right now I'm thinking widowhood," she muttered.

That seemed to reassure Bertram somewhat. "And you really believe this will somehow lead you to Red John?"

"Will lead the FBI to Red John," Jane corrected. "We are not on the case. And at the very least, we'll save lives. Red John has shown he won't hesitate to kill when we deviate from his script."

"That's true, sir," Lisbon said.

"So," Bertram said slowly, "you want my permission to get married as part of an undercover operation to entrap a serial killer."

"We don't need your permission," Jane pointed out. "Just your assurance that you won't take any punitive action against us."

"Despite the rules." Bertram looked sour. "And how am I supposed to explain this to my superiors?"

Lisbon said, "As an undercover operation. Sir, we realize this puts you in a difficult position. But technically, Jane is a consultant, not an agent, so the fraternization policy doesn't cover him."

"But he's under your supervision," Bertram pointed out, "so it doesn't actually matter what his status is. You are still breaking the rules, Agent Lisbon."

Jane said, "Then remove me from her supervision."

Bertram stared at him in shock. "You'd agree to that? Reassignment?"

"No. Your objections are based on a technicality; let's resolve the situation using another technicality. Remove me as Lisbon's responsibility, but leave me on the team."

"And who would your supervisor be? After what you did to Haffner, no agent in the building will agree to this," Bertram pointed out, leaning back and folding his arms.

"You," Jane grinned. "You could be my supervisor."

Bertram smiled slowly, sure he'd spotted the game now. "And have you ruin my career directly? No thank you."

"So you're saying that your career is more important than catching California's most notorious serial killer," Jane mused. "Interesting. I wouldn't've guessed you felt that way."

Bertram refused to be goaded. He must be catching on, finally, Jane thought with both approval and disappointment.

"Sir," Lisbon began in her most reasonable voice, "this would only be temporary. I could still fill out all the complaint paperwork, since I'd no doubt be present for whatever event caused it."

Jane grinned. "Oh, I can guarantee that."

Bertram's sour expression had returned. He looked at Jane. "Out. I want to talk to Agent Lisbon alone."

Jane smiled affably at him. "Of course. Call me if you need me."

He directed his last sentence at both Bertram and Lisbon, neither of whom acknowledged it as he sauntered out the door.

That had gone brilliantly, he thought with satisfaction. Let Bertram try to divide and conquer them all he wanted. Better men than him had tried, and if Lisbon wouldn't let Bosco throw him to the wolves, she certainly wasn't going to let Bertram do it. Even though she was severely pissed off at him at the moment.

Hm. Perhaps he'd better not wait for her, he realized, remembering how she'd punched him in the stomach after his last ruse with their boss. He'd go back to the office and have a cup of tea, and be safely in the presence of witnesses when she arrived.

mmm

Lisbon took a deep breath to calm down as Jane left the room. No doubt he'd gotten himself thrown out on purpose, knowing Bertram would want to try reasoning with her. But she was still pissed at him for how he'd gone about it. Why did he have to enjoy embarrassing her so much?

Bertram leaned forward, looking earnest. "Teresa," he began. His tone was probably meant to be caring, but it rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't need him to care about her, just to let her and Jane do this thing. "You can't be serious about this."

"Red John is serious. That means I don't have a choice." She softened her tone a little. "I know it's unorthodox, sir, but I think it can work. And we have to try. I don't want more people to die because of something I didn't do."

"But—" Bertram broke off, and when he spoke again his voice was almost pleading. "Marrying Jane. Really, Teresa?"

"We have already discussed grounds for annulment," she assured him.

Relief overtook Bertram's expression. "So I don't need to be worried that he's hypnotized you or blackmailing you?"

Jane had already told Bertram they were having sex, so she wondered what on earth Bertram thought Jane would have to blackmail her with. "I'm not under any duress," she assured him. "I know you think my judgment is questionable when it comes to Jane's plans, but I've shared this with the team, and they agree it's worth trying."

"I suppose that's meant to be reassuring, but your team has gone along with every single insane plan the man has come up with for years."

Lisbon bristled, but tried not to be obvious about it. "On my orders, often over their objections," she said. "I didn't have to issue any orders or convince anyone to go along with it this time. Sir, compared to some of the things we've done, this is...harmless. Nobody will get hurt by this. Jane and I are both adults, and we think it's worth it. And if it helps us catch Red John, nobody will care that the rules got broken."

"And if we don't catch him, we'll just look desperate," Bertram grumbled. "This gambit of moving Jane directly under my supervision—do you honestly think that will work?"

"Work as in will he do what you tell him? Probably not. Jane does what he thinks he needs to do, regardless of what anyone else tells him. I can reason with him to an extent, but I've rarely changed his mind when it has to do with Red John."

"He went to great lengths to get you reinstated after that mess with O'Loughlin. I've never decided whether that was because he feels that it would be too much work to suborn your replacement or because he actually cares about you." Bertram sounded dubious about the latter possibility. "Emotions don't belong in police work, Teresa. At least not when planning an operation. I want your assurance that this isn't going to turn into a disaster because Jane can't control himself."

Oh, she wished Jane were here to hear this, she thought wryly. "If it helps, sir, he's been significantly easier to control since we began this. He's more reluctant to cause trouble at work since it leads to unhappiness for him in our personal time."

Lisbon watched with secret amusement as Bertram processed the announcement that she was leading Jane around by his dick. "I can't officially approve of your tactics, Agent Lisbon, but if it keeps Jane from making our lives more difficult than they need to be, I'm grateful." He paused. "I've always been concerned about how close the two of you are. In a way, it's good to have the truth about the situation out in the open instead of all the rumors. But I agree to this only for the duration of this operation. Once we catch Red John, you will either have to end the relationship or accept reassignment for one of you."

"I understand," Lisbon assured him.

"It's not possible for you to be entirely objective in this situation, but I hope you will try to retain as much as possible," Bertram said.

"I'm thinking clearly, sir." She hesitated, then decided that Jane deserved whatever she chose to say about him. "I'm not the one who was celibate for most of a decade. This is one area where I have the upper hand."

Bertram looked like he was trying very hard not to picture what Lisbon might do with her hands. "Very well. Don't mess this up, Agent."

"I'll do my best, sir. We all will." Lisbon gave him a confident smile as she got out of her chair and gathered up the photos. Then she hurried out the door.

She had a consultant to punish.

mmm

Jane was proud of himself for postponing Lisbon's wrath by whisking her off to meet Stan Moore for lunch the instant she got back to her office. The profiler looked at the photos carefully, not seeming surprised at what they depicted, which Jane found interesting. Lisbon was trying not to squirm in embarrassment, and Jane sympathized with her even though he knew she was plotting to make him miserable later.

"Looks like quite a party," Moore remarked. "Did you have a good time?"

Lisbon narrowed her eyes at Jane, obviously promising something dreadful if he didn't behave himself. He grinned at her to show he wasn't cowed and said, "We had a fantastic time. What I remember of it, anyway. We were pretty drunk toward the end there."

Moore examined the photo of Lisbon getting out of the cab at the hotel, clutching at her coat and looking uncomfortable. He glanced at her speculatively, and Jane was impressed by his perceptiveness. But Lisbon's blush, however delectable it might be, was a sign of unhappiness, and he thought she'd had enough for one day. So he broke the silence. "As you see, there was more than one photographer. This was planned in advance."

"Yes," Moore agreed, now staring at the last photo, which had been taken right before the hotel's elevator doors closed. Jane's arms were around Lisbon, holding her against him as he leaned against the wall, his face half buried in her hair. But the part of his face that was visible showed an expression that was unmistakably that of a man in love. Jane's body hummed with an echo of the arousal he'd felt at that moment, and he took a moment to calm himself down. He needed to be thinking clearly.

"So." Moore put the photos down. "Not just colleagues, I see."

Jane considered his reply. "If a serial killer pushed you into the arms of a beautiful woman you'd trusted and admired for years, what would you do?"

"Probably something similar," Moore admitted. "Even if I weren't in love with her. But I see that's not a problem for you."

"True." Jane saw no reason not to admit it. Loving Lisbon was the one thing in his sorry life he hadn't screwed up, and he wasn't ashamed of it.

"How long has Red John known?" Moore asked.

"Before Lisbon did, I think," Jane said. "He probably suspected all the way back to when I shot Hardy to save her. But at that stage I was still telling myself I had to save her because she was the only one I could count on to help me."

Moore looked at Lisbon, who said, "I was definitely the last one to know. I was too busy being angry that he'd run off for six months without a word to notice the sudden onset of undying love."

Jane couldn't help wincing a little at her dry tone. But he covered quickly, smiling at her. "And yet here we are. We would invite you to the wedding, Stan, but it's supposed to be a secret so we're keeping the guest list to a minimum."

"Saves me buying you a toaster," Moore smiled. "When's the happy day?"

"Valentine's Day. Teresa is a closet romantic." Jane smiled indulgently.

"So that's what she meant." Moore looked lost in thought for a moment.

"Who?" Lisbon asked.

"Lorelei Martins. She asked me to pass on her congratulations if I saw you. I can only assume she knows about the engagement." Moore sat back in his chair. "Which means she is in touch with Red John even from a maximum security federal prison. I can see why you haven't been able to catch him." He tapped a finger on the photos, then looked at Jane. "She talks about you quite a bit. I'd like to see her reaction to these."

"Feel free," Jane replied. "Has she told you anything useful?"

"Told us, no. But we found an interesting connection. Did you know she had a sister? No? Her mother sold her when she was a child. Her adoptive parents eventually reunited the sisters, and they were close until Miranda was murdered. She scratched a name as she lay dying: Roy."

Jane stomped down on the flare of excitement the lead produced. It wasn't his lead to chase down, he reminded himself. Lisbon's safety was more important than old mysteries.

Lisbon glanced at Jane before guessing, "Roy Tagliaferro? Red John killed her sister?"

"Not according to her," Moore said. "But we've reopened the case. If we can find some evidence, we might be able to shake her loyalty."

"Good luck," Jane said. "Be sure to thank her for her well wishes, and assure her that I am as happy as it is possible for any man to be." He paused, then said, "You might also add that though I appreciate how hard she tried, Red John made a mistake when he sent her to me as a gift. She could never compete with Lisbon."

Moore chuckled. "Looking at these pictures while sitting there in prison orange, I'm sure she will agree. You think she will actually be jealous?"

"Maybe. No woman likes to be compared to another. And she knew all along that Red John sent her to me as a substitute for the woman I really wanted," Jane shrugged. "She failed to convince me to kill Lisbon, and now she's sitting in prison while Lisbon and I lead our happy lives. I think that will make her unsatisfied with her fate, yes."

"I'll give that a try," Moore said. "Well, back to it. Thank you for the photos. I hope to see wedding pictures as well."

"We'll see what we can do," Jane promised.

mmm

Jane had no opportunity that afternoon to find out what Lisbon had in mind for her revenge. She took Rigsby with her for a round of interviews, leaving Cho and Van Pelt to debate the merit of Jane's theory that character speech patterns could be used to discover the real life people the victim had used as his inspiration. Since Cho was impossible to rile up in any noticeable way, and Van Pelt mostly contented herself with being a spectator, Jane found the afternoon much less amusing than he'd hoped. He went home early and cooked Lisbon's favorite meal, knowing it wouldn't be enough to get him out of the doghouse but wanting to demonstrate his desire to achieve that.

Lisbon was late getting home, but she was in a good mood. "We found a former member of the victim's writer's group who looks good for it. Apparently there were accusations of plagiarism."

She took a seat at the table and sipped the wine Jane poured, just as if she wasn't furious with him. He wasn't fooled, though. "Another triumph for boring police work," he said cheerfully. "Congratulations." He served her a heaping helping and then filled his plate, noting, "Fresh strawberries for dessert."

"Sounds great," Lisbon smiled, digging in.

He promised himself he wasn't going to cave and bring it up first, but when they got through dessert and then proceeded to snuggle on the couch while watching mindless television, curiosity overcame his resolve. "So. At this point I'm thinking you are planning to do something unspeakable to me in my sleep, and not in a good way."

Lisbon smirked, glancing up at him from where she was resting her head against his shoulder. "And here I thought this day would never come. You don't have a clue, do you?"

"No," he admitted cautiously. "I take it surprise is part of your revenge, but beyond that I am at a loss. At first I took it for granted that you intended to throw me out of bed, but since you made no objection to my initial overtures just now, I concluded that sex was still a possibility."

That provoked a chuckle. "Oh, how wrong you are about that."

"Ah." His heart sank, but really, he'd known that was the bare minimum he could expect. "So you're cutting me off. That seems like a punishment for us both."

"True, but I'm used to suffering for your bad behavior," Lisbon informed him. "In this case, it will be well worth it if you can get it into your head that talking about our sex life to our boss—or anyone, actually—will result in the suspension of said sex life."

"For how long?"

"I was thinking we could combine it with tradition and wait until after the wedding."

"Lisbon!" He knew he was whining, but he couldn't help himself. "That's more than a month away!"

"But think how special the wedding night will be," she grinned.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman," he sighed.

"You are perfectly welcome to try to change my mind," she said, still with that evil glint in her eye.

"Oh, no. I know a bad bet when I see one," he replied. That explained her willingness to snuggle; she had no objection to getting his hopes up so she could dash them. That would leave them both frustrated, and the crankier she got, the less likely she was to relent.

No, his best bet was to accept his punishment and go out of his way to be the perfect chaste lover. It could be romantic, like a medieval troubadour and his highborn lady, he thought. Damn it, even saying it to himself he was unconvincing.

It was going to be a long winter. At least, until he could come up with a better plan. And judging by Lisbon's smug expression, that was going to be a challenge indeed.

But a happy thought occurred to him: she was talking about the wedding as if she had accepted it would be real. So he'd lost the battle, but won the war, apparently.

And battles could always be re-fought, he thought, carefully keeping the grin off his face.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **I fully intended to get to the case in this chapter, but Jane and Lisbon would just not shut up. And since I didn't feel like arguing, you get a long chapter that's mostly dialogue. Okay, all dialogue. But with a special guest star! I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 26**

Three days later, Lisbon looked up at a knock on her office door and broke into a smile when she saw Minelli there. "Sir! Come in!"

She got out of her chair to give him a hug as he entered. "Teresa, it's good to see you," he said, smiling affectionately at her as he took a seat. "You look good. Happy."

"Retirement agrees with you," she responded, sitting back in her chair. "Or is it May?"

"Both," he replied. "I was hoping to convince you to sneak out for lunch. What are my odds?"

"Pretty good," she said. "You were just in the neighborhood?"

"No. I got tired of hearing rumors and decided to come see for myself. Nice ring." He gave her his old "don't bullshit me" look.

She smiled again, this time out of nostalgia. "Thanks. You should tell Jane; he's really proud of his taste in jewelry, it turns out. So. Your favorite bar is still right where you left it—I'll buy you a beer for old times' sake."

"And I'll buy you a burger," he promised. "As long as you tell me what's really going on."

Lisbon's stomach growled. She had leftovers from a delicious casserole Jane had made two nights ago waiting for her in the fridge, but a burger sounded wonderful. She hadn't had much junk food lately, after all. "Deal," she said.

Jane chose that moment to barge in. He didn't seem surprised to find Minelli there, so she knew it was on purpose. "Virgil!" he said heartily. "Good to see you." He shook Minelli's hand, then perched on the corner of Lisbon's desk, tossing her a smile that said he knew she hated it when he did that but she was going to have to live with it. "Come to check on your favorite protégée?"

"Yes," Minelli replied. "Since I was hearing very disturbing rumors that she had lost her mind. I realized right away that you had to be behind it."

Jane grinned, unoffended. "Are you here to give me the speech about how you'll shoot me if I break her heart? Entirely unnecessary, I assure you."

"I know better than to expect you to take such a threat seriously." Minelli held Jane's gaze just a little too long.

The two men were being perfectly cordial, and Lisbon thought they were genuinely glad to see each other, but there was a weird tension in the room. Jane was being territorial, which made no sense, because he knew perfectly well that Minelli's interest in her was not romantic. If anything, it was paternal—

Oh. Lisbon bit her lip to keep from smiling. Of course. Since Lisbon's brothers weren't here to haze her prospective groom, Minelli was acting as her surrogate family. And Jane had spotted it immediately. This was a contest to see who had the most influence over her, as if she weren't perfectly capable of making up her own mind. "Jane," she said, "behave yourself while I take our old boss out for lunch."

Jane shot her an amused look. "I will do my best. Oh, I may not be here when you get back—I have an appointment to look at apartments."

"Do not sign anything!" she warned.

"My dear, I wouldn't dream of it. Will you be home for dinner?"

"That depends on what you're planning to cook," she teased him.

"Text me if you're going to be late," he said. "There's nothing worse than overcooked pork chops." He leaned over to drop a kiss into her hair, too quick for her to stop him. Then he got to his feet, smiling at Minelli. "Good to see you again. After we get settled, you'll have to come for dinner sometime."

"I might take you up on that." Minelli stared after Jane as he left, then turned back to Lisbon. "He cooks?"

"Does he ever. He's also been known to clean," Lisbon smiled. "Come on, let's see if we can beat the lunch crowd."

mmm

When they were settled in a corner booth and had ordered their beers, Lisbon said, "Did you really come back here just to see if Jane had finally driven me over the edge?"

"Why else?" Minelli asked.

"I was kind of hoping you'd come out of retirement," she confessed.

He gave a brief chuckle. "Now why would I do that? I got out of that job alive and without becoming a fugitive, which is better than most of my successors. I won't push my luck." He frowned. "You'd be in line for that job now if I hadn't saddled you with Jane."

"So thank you for that," Lisbon smiled.

Minelli made a harrumphing sound. "It's all very well to joke, Teresa, but I worry I did you a great disservice. And that you are about to turn that into a greater tragedy. You can't be serious about marrying Jane. You know better than anyone that he and Red John are on a collision course. Don't put yourself in the middle."

She shook her head. "It's too late for that. Red John already knows he can use me to manipulate Jane. This is all a result of him doing just that. He gave Jane a choice between himself or me, and Jane chose me."

"I don't think I even want to know how that happened," Minelli frowned.

"You really don't. I don't remember the worst of it, and I don't want to," she admitted. "But Jane has done his best to hold up his end of the deal. We gave the case to the FBI, and he sold his house, which was really hard for him."

"That is not a reason to get married."

"No. But Red John wants us to get married, and when we didn't jump on board with his plan right away, he killed again."

Minelli looked perplexed. "Why would Red John want you to get married?"

"Because he wants Jane to have a wife. We think his goal is to make sure Jane ends up with a wife and child again, but we've agreed the child part's not happening."

"But why? So he can repeat what he did before?"

"Probably, yes."

Minelli swore under his breath. "Teresa, don't do this. You can't turn yourself over to a serial killer like this! Whatever Jane has told you, it's too big a risk. It's bad enough you got engaged—"

Lisbon seized the opportunity to change the subject. "We aren't."

"Oh?"

"Technically, no."

"Then why are you wearing that ring? You did say he bought it for you."

"He bought the ring, yes, and I am wearing it. But he never asked me to marry him, and he says he's not going to."

"Really." Minelli looked suspicious. "Then what is all this I keep hearing about a wedding? Just gossip?"

"No, there is a wedding in the works," she said. "To keep Red John happy."

"I have news for you, Teresa. If you're planning to get married, you're engaged."

"Fake married," she explained. "To keep Red John happy. Not real married as in I want to spend the rest of my life with him, or anything." Even if she thought she might, most days.

Minelli shook his head sadly. "I worried about you when I left," he said. "I knew I'd done you a bad turn by putting Jane on your team, and I saw that you'd gotten too close to him. I knew he would get you into trouble. But I never imagined this."

"Neither did I," she sighed.

Minelli's expression turned sour. "You tell him," he said, "that if he gets you killed, I'm coming after him."

Lisbon said, "No need. He says he has no plans to outlive me. And I'm very afraid he wouldn't."

With a sigh, Minelli took a long pull on his beer. Then he said, "I know you love him—I knew that when I left. But you can't afford to be blinded by that."

"I'm trying not to be," she assured him.

"Then I guess that is all I came to say."

He looked sad, and she wanted to cheer him up. "Would you like to come to the wedding? It's just us and the team, but we'd love to have you."

"I wouldn't miss it," he smiled. Then he frowned again. "But I won't bring May. And I'm coming armed."

"We all are," she assured him.

mmm

Jane was full of nervous energy while he waited for Lisbon to get home that evening. He'd had a very successful afternoon of apartment hunting, and he couldn't wait to share his findings with her. But he was also nervous about her talk with Minelli, who was possibly the one person who could convince her to rethink their plans.

She was smiling as she came in the door, though, and her body language was free of guilt or anxiety, so she obviously wasn't planning to call things off. "Welcome home," he said, concealing his relief beneath his usual cheer. "How was your day?"

"Good," she said. "How about yours?"

"Good," he echoed, drawing her into his arms. He was so pleased that he wasn't going to have to persuade her not to give up on him that he had to kiss her, but he confined himself to soft, closed-mouth kisses on her lips and cheeks. She hadn't had nearly enough simple affection in her life, he thought, and since sex was out of the question for the moment, he was taking the opportunity to show her some.

Lisbon hummed in contentment. She always soaked up his gestures of affection eagerly, and he took a moment to regret it had taken this long to reach this point. All the bear claws and origami and other little things had merely been substitutes because he wasn't allowed to do this.

And they had skipped something important, he realized. They'd gone straight from friendship, however sexually charged it might be at times, to live-in lovers. There'd been no dating to speak of, no gradual exploration, and very little playfulness in their coming together. He decided to use this period of abstinence to do all the things he would have done if they had been able to let their relationship gradually evolve.

Lisbon dotted a few kisses along his jawline in answer to his, then rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to move to her neck. But that threatened to become too heated, so he stopped, focusing on the feeling of his arms around her while she leaned against him.

"What did I do to deserve such a welcome?" she teased. Then she tensed and pulled back to look at his face. "You signed a lease, didn't you? Dammit, Jane!"

"No, I didn't," he assured her, grinning a little at how she jumped to the worst conclusion. "I promise. I wanted to, but I knew you'd never move in if I did. We'll both sign it, after you've seen the place and fallen in love with it."

She still looked suspicious. "Then what was this about?"

"What, I can't greet my fiancée with a kiss? Simply because she's beautiful and I missed her?" He missed Lovely Fiancée too, he reflected. _Really_ missed her. But he would probably only see her again as Lovely Wife. He swallowed the pang he felt at applying that word to anyone but Angela; he needed to get used to it.

"Hm." Lisbon wasn't buying it.

He couldn't blame her, really. So he decided to tell her the truth. "Remember when I told you I didn't want to be engaged because everyone would try to talk you out of it?"

"Yes?"

"Of all the people I thought would try, Minelli was the one I was most worried about. But he didn't convince you, so I am expressing my profound relief."

She frowned a little, then looked intently into his eyes. "Are you really so unsure of me?"

He felt his mouth tug into a wry half-grin, half-grimace. "Teresa, anyone who cares about you thinks this is a mistake. If I weren't such a selfish bastard, I'd talk you out of it myself."

"Because you think Red John will try to kill me."

"Partly. But mostly because, in all honesty, I treat you very badly sometimes. As evidenced by the fact that we're currently not having sex because I embarrassed you in front of Bertram."

"You could try treating me better," she suggested. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea, but it works for most couples."

"I don't embarrass you for the fun of it, you know. I had a very specific reason for doing so, and it worked perfectly." He frowned. "The problem is that we bring work home with us. On our own time, I think I treat you pretty well. In evidence of which, I present you these lovely brochures and invite you to pay particular attention to the spacious and well-equipped kitchens. And, of course, the security features."

Lisbon rolled her eyes as he handed her several glossy brochures, then frowned as she flipped through them. "We can't afford any of these. Really, Jane—this building has its own climbing wall and a stadium seating theater, in addition to the roof pool. I know what you make, remember? We're both state employees—it's not like we're getting raises anytime soon." She eyed him with suspicion again. "These are just to make me think the one you want is reasonable, right?"

He chuckled. "I love that you know me so well."

"No, you don't," she replied. "But since you intend to marry me, I assume you'll learn to live with it. And if you don't come up with some reasonable options, you'll be doing that here with my humble little kitchen." She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Red John's never had any trouble getting into anywhere he wanted to be. What makes you think we'll be any safer in any of these places?"

"Of course we won't be safer. We're not safe in the CBI, for goodness' sake. But this is about appearances. Moving will signal to him that we're building a new life together. It'll give us a chance to amuse him with our nesting activities and make him think we're playing along with his game. Which is why I only looked at two- and three-bedroom places."

"Nesting?" Lisbon looked both amused and repulsed.

"Nesting. I plan to drive you batty with fabric samples," he grinned. "And trying out mattresses."

Lisbon was obviously picturing how much embarrassment he could cause her in a mattress store. "You can buy the mattresses yourself," she said.

"Really? You'd entrust such an important and expensive purchase to someone who until recently slept on couches, a makeshift bed on a board, or hotel mattresses?" He couldn't resist teasing her.

"Given my alternatives, yes. When's dinner?"

"Almost ready. Go put your gun away and I'll show you the other brochures," he instructed.

"Like I need a gun to hurt you," she scoffed, heading upstairs.

He really did love it when she tried to cut through his bullshit. But he would never tell her that. "Why must you suck the fun out of everything?" he called after her mournfully.

"You had enough fun with Bertram to last you a while." Her tart reply floated down the stairs to him, making him grin briefly before going back to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner.

mmm

Lisbon wasn't entirely clear on how "we can't afford that" had become "okay, I'll go look at it," but two days later she found herself gawking at an absolutely gorgeous apartment. Jane kept an arm around her waist as he led her from room to room, lingering in the kitchen and showing her the walk-in pantry with almost the same enthusiasm he showed for his car. He also emphasized the whirlpool tub in the master bathroom and talked at length about which of the two other bedrooms would make the best nursery, to the leasing agent's indulgent amusement.

But when the paperwork came out, she knew she had to put a stop to this. "It's lovely," she said to Emily the leasing agent, "but we can't afford it."

"Could we have a moment?" Jane flashed his most blinding smile at Emily, who immediately succumbed and went to wait in the hall.

"Jane," she said as soon as they were alone. "We talked about this."

"No," he said, "you talked about this, until you freaked yourself out about mingling our finances and then changed the subject. You never let me get to the part about my investments. I've been reinvesting the dividends since I didn't have any use for them, but I don't have to keep doing that. We have more to live on than just our salaries. We can afford this."

Lisbon tried to calm down. Any other woman would be thrilled by this news, she thought. Why was it making her anxious?

Jane took her hand and gave her a look that said he was willing to be patient while she had a moment of irrationality. He probably knew exactly what the problem was, she thought. If she let him, he would talk her into thinking this was a fantastic idea, and they would move into this gorgeous apartment close to work and begin arguing about furniture and what to hang on the walls.

"Here's my cunning plan," he said, just as if they were working a case. "We are going out for a celebratory dinner. After that, we are going to go home and dig out all our financial paperwork. Full disclosure. Then we'll decide how much to put into a joint checking account each month and how much to keep separate. I'll have my financial guy send the paperwork to add your name to the investment accounts, which should alleviate your fear of getting stuck in a lease you can't afford if I disappear or get killed in a car accident."

She remembered when he'd cleaned out the safe in his house and mentioned he'd left everything to her in his will. "I need to change my will," she realized.

"There's no hurry," he smiled. "Where shall we go to celebrate?"

mmm

The next three weeks passed in a blur for Lisbon. In addition to their caseload, she had to deal with Van Pelt's insistence they go dress shopping and Jane's insistence that she weigh in on the furniture he wanted to buy for their new place. The stress mounted as she tried to keep up with everything, and just when she thought she couldn't handle anything else, she came home late to find boxes stacked in her living room.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as Jane stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Packing. Don't worry, I'm not stripping your kitchen bare. I've left enough that we can make do on the nights we're here. But the china cabinet's been delivered, so I figured we might as well move your mother's china, as well as most of the pots and pans. Oh, the bed's coming tomorrow, so we can start sleeping there once we buy some bedding."

Her gaze wandered past the boxes to the dry cleaning bag containing two of his suits. "You're moving out," she said, a weird forlorn feeling making her heart ache.

Jane must have heard the strange note in her voice, because he came over and gave her a kiss hello. "What's the matter?"

"I thought we'd stay here until the new place was ready," she said, managing a more normal tone."I have two more months on my lease. I didn't realize you were in such a hurry to leave."

"I'm not. But there's no harm in getting started, since we're doing this gradually. It would be nice to come back from the wedding and be mostly moved." He dipped his head a little to better see her expression, lifting one hand to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. "Hey. I'm not moving out. And when I do, I'm taking you with me."

She nodded, but she was still far from happy. Jane read her expression and drew her into a hug. "Getting a little too real for you, sweetheart?"

She drew a deep breath, letting his scent calm her. "There's a lot going on."

"Yes, there is. But there's no need to worry, because I have no intention of leaving you alone long enough to develop cold feet," Jane said. She felt him smile against her hair. "I'll slow down on the furniture buying. We have enough to get by; we can eat at the bar until we move your table. And there's no hurry, since you won't let us try out the new bed until after the wedding."

"We can sleep in it," she pointed out. Of course, since Jane had insisted on a king size, they'd need to buy sheets. No doubt he had firm opinions about thread counts, so that might take some time.

"Meh, almost any bed will do for that. It's the strenuous activity that's the real test. Of course, since you've condemned us to this lengthy celibacy, we'll no doubt give it a vigorous and prolonged breaking in when the happy night arrives."

Her heart sped up at the thought, and she felt him smile again, rubbing her back gently before he pulled away. Days like today were the worst, she thought, when she was stressed and wanted nothing more than to stop thinking for a while. Sex with Jane was great for that, and she missed it. But it seemed like this attempt to alter his behavior might be making an impression, so hopefully it would be worth it in the long run.

"You can call it off anytime you like, you know," he said, his sober tone undercut by the twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"What, the fake engagement? Moving?" she asked, though she knew perfectly well he was talking about the sex ban.

He gave her a knowing grin. "Any or all of it."

"Right." She folded her arms. "You're only saying that because you know I know what would happen if I made Red John angry by foiling his plans."

A strange expression crossed his face. "I suppose," he said slowly, "we could get you out of this unscathed if I met someone else and pretended to fall madly in love with her. You could catch us together in your bed and throw me out. Even he couldn't blame you for that, especially if I turned around and proposed to my mistress immediately afterward."

"And who is this poor woman we'd be throwing to the wolves?" she said drily, ignoring the red hot pain that shot through her at the picture he was painting.

"A cop, of course," he replied. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Stop being an asshole, Jane," she sighed. "Do you want me to admit I couldn't go through with that? Fine. I admit it. If I ever catch you in bed with another woman, I'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"I consider myself warned," he replied. "What I really want us to acknowledge is that we have choices in how we respond to his manipulation. Don't ever tell me you're with me because you have no choice."

She heard the anger beneath his calm tone and realized she'd managed to hit one of his few insecurities. "Of course I'm not. I've told you I'm with you because I want to be, and you must know it's true, since you claim I'm such a bad liar."

"I know it. I want to make sure you know it," he replied.

"Of course I do." She resisted the urge to rub at her forehead and reveal her headache.

Jane was silent for a moment. Then he said, "You skipped dinner, didn't you? I'll make you a sandwich." He went back into the kitchen before she could think of a reply.

Lisbon felt too exhausted to do anything but drop into a chair at the table and stare at it until a sandwich appeared in front of her. She ate it numbly, feeling a little better when she was done. She wasn't sure if she owed Jane an apology, but she did think longingly that dragging him upstairs and working out their frustrations in bed would be a great way to end a miserable day.

Jane sat down across from her and remarked, "Far be it from me to discourage you from fantasizing about having your wicked way with me, but it occurs to me that it might be better in the long run if we got into the habit of talking through our issues."

"Have you been watching daytime television?" she asked incredulously. "And since when do you want to talk about things? Hell, Jane, the thing I like best about you is that I don't have to talk about things!"

He smiled. "I know. I'd be a nervous wreck by now if all I had to go on was what you say. And it helps enormously that I can see the signs of low blood sugar when you're being mean to me." He paused. "But you should know, Teresa, that despite my many talents, I am still merely human. And it is possible to hurt my feelings, especially when it comes to the issue of your feelings for me. And since you've ruled out showing me how you feel through sex, I'm afraid your options for reassuring me are limited. You might actually have to verbalize what you're feeling."

"Nice try, Jane, but you're not going to get me to change my mind that easily," she said.

His pitiful expression tugged at her heart even though she was almost certain it was an act. "Then how are you going to soothe my anxious heart? I can't possibly sleep without some kind of reassurance. I guess I'll just have to stay up all night packing."

She tried not to smirk, confident now that he was playing with her. "That will just make me anxious. I might start unpacking. You know how I have to straighten things up when I'm upset."

Jane chuckled a little, no doubt picturing the two of them packing and unpacking the same boxes all night like some sitcom couple. "Ah, but I have all kinds of ways to overcome your anxiety. I could start with a nice foot massage."

Oh, no way, she thought. He knew perfectly well what that would lead to. The last time, he'd ended up taking his shirt to be repaired and then teased her that the tailor had started winking at him every time he brought in another piece of ripped clothing. "Well, maybe I should give you a massage."

He raised his eyebrows, looking intrigued. "There's a novel idea. But your hands are pretty strong. I'm a little afraid you'll hurt me."

This time she didn't try to contain her smirk. "You've never complained about my hands before. And just think how nice it would be to lie on your stomach while I work out all the tension in your back and shoulders. You're probably sore from all that packing, poor baby."

"It would be nice," he mused. "You'd probably straddle me, and I have really missed having your beautiful thighs wrapped around me."

Two could play that game, she thought. "And I've missed making you moan. And having you at my mercy, of course. And squeezing your cute butt."

He grinned. "This is sounding better and better." From the way his eyes lit, she thought she had him. But then he leaned back and added, "But of course, it's all part of your exquisitely tortuous plan to punish me, so I think I'll have to pass."

She pouted, knowing he had a weakness for her lips. "Are you sure? I think you'd enjoy it."

"I'm afraid it would ultimately prove unsatisfying," he said. But his voice had grown hoarse, and she knew he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended. "No, there's no way around it, Teresa. You'll have to talk about your feelings."

"Oh, cut the bullshit," she sighed. "You don't need me to tell you anything. Sometimes you know what I'm feeling better than I do." It cost her something to admit that, but maybe he'd give her credit for it.

He frowned at her a little, then seemed to come to a decision. "True. And right now you are probably so worked up that you can't sort half of it out, can you? You don't even know where to begin."

She nodded, hoping he'd have something constructive to suggest.

"If there was one thing you could change right now that would make you happier, what would it be?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. "I wish you hadn't been such an ass with Bertram so we could go upstairs and get out of our own heads for a while."

Jane smiled a little. "Unfortunately, I can't change the past, Teresa. If I could, there would be a lengthy list of things for me to undo."

At least one of which would result in their never meeting, she realized. But she couldn't begrudge him the wish to save his family. She tried to think of what else she just wanted to go away. "I wish I didn't have to buy a dress for this wedding."

"Then don't," he said. "If you want to get married in jeans, then do that. I don't care what you're wearing as long as you promise to love and cherish me and let me put a ring on your finger."

Hm, maybe she could buy a pair of white jeans? No. "Grace would never let me get away with that. I just hate spending all that time trying on ridiculously expensive dresses that I'm only going to wear once. And the nice ones are the most expensive! The cheaper ones are all covered in sequins or fake lace or ruffles." She shuddered a little.

Jane shook his head with an affectionate smile. "That's easy. Stop looking at the price tags and buy what you want. I told you, I have money. If you've fallen in love with a twenty thousand dollar dress, just buy it and put us all out of your misery."

"Twenty thousand dollars?" she echoed, scandalized. "Jane, that's a car!"

"Not much of one," he replied. "I'm serious. This is not worth you stressing over. Find something you like and buy it, and stop trying on dresses just because they're in your price range."

"But it's such a waste of money," she complained.

"Look at it this way. We're having this wedding for a reason, and the props and costumes have to look as real as possible. I will happily pay for your dress and count it money well spent." He looked at her, gauging her reaction. "Do I need to come with you and help?"

Oh, that was tempting, if only she could trust him to behave himself and not gang up on her with Grace to make her buy some ridiculous ball gown. "No. I want you to be surprised."

"All right. Now, no more stress over the dress. What's next on your list?"

Lisbon looked around at all the boxes. "Can we please do this together? I'd feel better if I didn't have to worry you were packing something I need."

Jane grinned. "All right. No more packing while you're not here. Next?"

She was starting to feel better. "That's enough for now. I just really, really wish you hadn't felt the need to put the idea of my orgasms into Bertram's head. He can barely look at me now."

"With the result that he calls you instead of making you trek all the way to his office," Jane pointed out. "Teresa, we both know I could talk you into changing your mind almost anytime I want to. Do you know why I haven't?"

It really wasn't worth arguing his point, she decided. He was probably right. But if so, she was very curious as to why he hadn't tried to get his own way, as usual. "Why?"

"Because you're ambivalent at best about marrying me, and this gives you something to look forward to after the wedding."

She blinked, then laughed. "You think I'll marry you for sex?"

"No, but it helps you deal with the stress to think about all the ways I'm going to blow your mind on the wedding night." He looked very pleased with himself.

"You know what really helps me deal with the stress?" she smiled. "Being able to go to confession again. Since I no longer intend to have sex with a man I'm not married to, I've been able to clear my conscience."

"Heaven forbid I tarnish your halo, my dear." He yawned, and she followed a moment later. "Bedtime?"

"Yes." Even if they weren't having sex, she still enjoyed sharing the bed with him. It was something she could look forward to. "Patrick?"

He paused in the act of getting to his feet, her use of his name getting his entire attention. "Yes?"

"You're not planning to sleep over at the new place without me, are you?"

He came around to her side of the table and pulled her up into his arms. "Teresa, I plan to never sleep in a bed without you again if I can possibly help it. Would you relax, please?" He frowned. "Are you still anxious about being away from me? I thought you were better. We've spent part of most days separated recently."

"I'm fine," she said. "What, I'm not allowed to miss my bed warmer?"

"Miss me all you like," he said. "Just don't ever worry that I'd rather be somewhere else."

She smiled, knowing he was telling the truth. It was nice not to have to wonder anymore, she thought as they went up the stairs together.

**A/N: **Just a note to assure you I did not make up the luxury apartment building Lisbon talks about when she's looking at the brochures. They built one not far from me, causing us all to wonder who these rich people were who were moving into our modest neighborhood! Thanks for reading, and don't worry, there's actually going to be stuff happening in the next chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: **Back to the main plot of the story! And no, this is not the evil airline-inspired part. I'm not sure where this came from. Two solid days of software training, perhaps? At any rate, I hope you enjoy, and thanks to all of you who keep me going with your feedback and follows!

**Chapter 27**

The next morning, Jane decided to take a few boxes over to the new place and wait for the bed to be delivered, promising to be at the office by lunchtime. Lisbon kissed him good-bye and then went off to throw herself into her work.

She had a very productive morning until someone knocked on her door. "Come in," she called, looking up from her computer.

Stan Moore came in, smiling uncertainly. "Hi, Agent Lisbon. I was hoping Patrick was here."

"He'll be in a little later. Anything I can help you with?" She'd never quite worked out what Moore thought was going on, though Jane seemed okay with him. But of course, that might mean Jane just liked to mess with him, not that Moore was trustworthy.

"He said he'd call yesterday, but I guess he got busy. We didn't get a chance to debrief since I had to leave the prison so suddenly, and I was curious what his take on it was."

A pit opened in her stomach. "You and Jane went to see Lorelei Martins." And she'd been stupid enough to think he was running domestic errands.

Moore saw through her attempt to remain calm. "He didn't tell you?"

"We didn't have a chance to talk shop yesterday," she said. That was true, anyway. "Was it helpful?"

"Not that I could tell," he replied. "Aside from being a fascinating character study. It's not every day I get to watch two expert manipulators try to climb inside each other's heads. But then, you must know what I'm talking about."

Lisbon forced a smile. "Yes. Though for some reason Jane prefers I not observe his interviews with Lorelei."

Moore chuckled briefly. "I wouldn't want my girlfriend to watch me interrogate a woman as insistent in her sexuality as Lorelei, either. Especially if I'd actually had sex with her."

Even through her hurt anger, Lisbon began to wonder whether Moore was deliberately provoking her or just being a jerk. "Oh yes, she takes real pride in that. As if seducing a man who was celibate for almost a decade and was probably half-drunk at the time is some kind of feat." Oops, that was probably a little too catty, she realized.

Moore didn't quite manage not to grin. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about, Agent Lisbon. Patrick might talk a good game with Lorelei, but he doesn't look at her the way he looks at you."

_I don't need your pity,_ Lisbon thought, irritated. Lorelei got under her skin, true, but not because she was afraid Jane had feelings for her. That might actually be easier to handle. It wasn't love or even lust that drew Jane to Lorelei; it was the promise of getting closer to Red John. But he was supposed to be finished with that now. He'd promised. She felt sick to her stomach.

"When he gets in, I'll tell him to give you a call," Lisbon promised, keeping her voice even.

"Thanks. Have a great day!" Moore said as he left.

"Yeah, right," she muttered once he was gone. Her concentration shattered, she let herself fume for a moment. Jane had some explaining to do, though she knew he would simply claim that he hadn't mentioned going to see Lorelei because she was already so stressed last night. And he wouldn't feel the least bit guilty or remorseful over it, either. She was all too familiar with how their argument would go. They didn't even need to have it, really.

Damn it, she'd thought she wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. She'd never have gotten involved with Jane if she'd known he hadn't really given up his obsession. That road held heartbreak at every turn, and she knew that perfectly well. It was one reason why she'd spent so long not letting herself think about him in any non-friend context.

It was official: she'd made a fool of herself. She should have known Red John wasn't going to leave Jane alone, and therefore Jane wasn't going to be able to turn over any new leaves, whatever his intentions. She believed he'd meant it when he said she was more important, that he loved her. But that didn't make a damn bit of difference once he caught a glimpse of a chance at Red John. It was time she stopped living in their mutual daydream and got back to the real world.

She drew a deep, watery breath and sat with her eyes closed until she had regained her composure. When she opened them again, the first thing she saw was the ring on her right hand. Pain lanced through her as she remembered how he'd woken her with kisses so she could discover it on her finger. She'd begun to let herself believe it could be real. But part of her had known all along it was too good to be true.

Angrily, she yanked the ring off her finger and dropped it into her desk drawer.

mmm

Jane was whistling as he walked toward Lisbon's office, not minding the looks he got from the people he passed. He was enjoying putting the new apartment in order; he'd forgotten how much he liked domesticity, especially now that he had a place to put his stamp on instead of feeling like he was disrupting Lisbon's environment. It was comforting to have a place to think of as home again.

"Ready for lunch?" he asked as he pushed the door to her office open.

'I'll pass," she said, not looking up.

Uh oh. He was in the doghouse again, obviously, and he could think of only one thing he'd done lately to get there. Still, no point in confessing until he was sure it wasn't something else, like paperwork about some minor misbehavior he'd not bothered to retain in his memory palace. "Looks like I'm in trouble. What did I do?"

"Nothing new." Her tone practically dripped icicles, and when she finally looked up, her eyes were equally cold. She folded her hands together on her desk, slowly and deliberately.

His stomach dropped as he realized she wasn't wearing her ring. "Lose something?" he asked, but without any levity in his voice.

"My mind, apparently. Because I really believed for a minute there that things were different. That we were done with the lies and the sneaking around."

"I was going to tell you—"

"Save it," she spat. "I've heard it all before."

"I thought we were cooperating with the FBI. What was I supposed to do? Tell Moore to forget it?" He couldn't keep the anger out of his tone as he realized what he was up against.

"You were supposed to inform your supervising agent that you were interviewing a witness in a case we're not investigating."

He refrained from rolling his eyes but couldn't resist saying, "I thought Bertram was my supervisor now."

"And I'm supposed to believe you told Bertram where you were going?" she demanded.

"No. There was no need, since he already ordered us to cooperate with Moore." Jane tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable but not patronizing. It was difficult, though, when his temper was rising. Of course, he was mostly angry at himself for giving Lisbon the excuse she'd subconsciously been looking for. "I apologize for not keeping you apprised of my every move."

Although an expert practitioner, Lisbon certainly disliked sarcasm when she was on the receiving end. There was enough heat in her glare to melt glass. "Not every move, Jane. Just the ones involving Red John."

"I wasn't investigating," Jane replied. "Moore wanted me to talk to Lorelei because she said she had a message for me. He hoped it would give him a clue as to Red John's next move."

"Since he told me it wasn't a productive visit, I assume she merely wanted you to kiss her again," Lisbon said.

"He said that? I found it interesting. And no, I did not kiss her, or offer to help her escape, or anything else you could take exception to," he assured her. "I accepted her congratulations and told her how happy I was." He couldn't help the wry twist to his final words, given where this conversation was obviously heading. Since it was more about Lisbon's fears than about Lorelei, he doubted he could retrieve the situation until Lisbon cooled off. But he needed to remind her that the ring was about more than their personal relationship. "That ring is keeping you safe, Lisbon. Put it back on."

"Don't tell me what to do," she seethed. She reached into her desk drawer and held the ring out to him. "I'm done, Jane. This stupid plan is over. I'm not playing Red John's game anymore."

Jane thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, refusing to take the ring. The fact that she hadn't thrown it at him was encouraging; it seemed to indicate she was emotionally attached to it.

Lisbon shrugged and dropped the ring back into the drawer. Then she pretended to go back to her work, though he was sure she was typing randomly. He weighed the satisfaction of having the last word against the extra work it would add to bringing her around and decided that he had nothing to gain by persisting.

He pushed the door open abruptly enough to catch several people still staring; Lisbon's blinds were open, so the whole thing had been visible to anyone who cared to look. That made the risk Lisbon was running imminent, so Jane swallowed his anger and pulled out his phone, texting Cho to meet him by the coffee cart outside.

It didn't take the agent long to arrive. "What did you do?" he asked in lieu of greeting.

"My job," Jane said shortly. "Lisbon is overreacting."

Cho folded his arms. "If she was overreacting, you'd be having that ring surgically removed. Is this part of the plan?"

"No. It is very much not part of the plan. And when Red John finds out, as he undoubtedly will since half the floor saw her break off the engagement, she'll be in danger."

"Because she's not playing along."

"Yes. One of you needs to have eyes on her at all times. All times, Cho."

"Got it." Cho eyed Jane for a second, then asked, "What are you going to do?"

Jane's bitter grin felt scary, but of course nothing he did would ever scare Cho. "I believe that the traditional reaction to heartbreak and humiliation is to get drunk. But Lisbon has a particular dislike for that coping mechanism. So I plan to make everyone's afternoon very unpleasant by remaining at work in my current surly state."

"Nice," Cho said. "Make her even more annoyed. Brilliant plan."

"Cheer up," Jane said. "Maybe there'll be a case I can solve in the most obnoxious way possible."

Cho turned and headed back toward the building; Jane could practically feel him rolling his eyes and smiled a little. Then he turned to the coffee cart. He would begin his campaign of unpleasantness by buying coffee for everyone but Lisbon.

mmm

Jane spent most of the afternoon and evening on his couch, waiting to see if he would have an opportunity to speak privately to Lisbon. But she merely stopped by on her way out to inform him that he was not welcome in her home tonight. That hurt more than he wanted to admit, but it would be better to let her miss him, he thought. He could stay here, or go sleep on their new bed even though it had no sheets yet. Or he could go buy some, as a vote of confidence in his persuasive powers.

After he'd thought about it a while, he decided to remain on his couch, sulking in full view of whatever audience he might have. Very few people were still in the office at that point. Grace was the only one of the team remaining; Lisbon had left much earlier than usual, and Cho and Rigsby had gone immediately afterward, preparing for their shifts on surveillance duty. When Jane got up to make a pot of tea, Grace joined him in the break room in search of coffee.

"What's keeping you here so late, Grace?" Jane asked.

"Oh, you know, stuff," she said, which he took to mean that she was assigned to keep an eye on him in case his emotional distress led him to actions that Cho would disapprove of. Or, he realized as he examined her expression, maybe she was just worried about him. Her next words confirmed the latter theory. "If you need to talk, you know I'm here, right?"

He was touched. It was nice to be reminded that someone was on his side when Lisbon was doing her best to pretend she wasn't. "Thank you. But this is just a little hiccup. She doesn't mean it."

Grace smiled. "I know. And even if she did, you'd change her mind. But it must still bother you."

"It does," he admitted. "If you were of a mind to help, you could talk to her."

"Oh, no," Grace said. "She'd only resent me poking my nose in. Plead your own case."

"I'm not asking you to plead my case. But you can make her come to her senses simply by reminding her that you are my second-favorite woman."

She gave him a puzzled look. "I guess I could do that. But why?"

"Oh, Grace, you are so much happier not knowing," he replied, smiling at her.

She rolled her eyes, picked up her filled mug, and went back to work.

mmm

Jane tossed and turned on his couch long after Grace and everyone else had left. For years it had been a comfortable place to spend his nights, but it had lost its charms now. He was somewhat disturbed to discover how dependent on Lisbon's company he'd become in a few short months.

Abandoning his useless attempts to sleep, he took a brief constitutional through the halls. Noting that it was past midnight, it suddenly occurred to him that Lisbon had said she didn't want to see him that night, but it was now technically morning. And she was probably sound asleep, so his risk of being shot on sight was low.

Grinning, he drove to her place, letting himself in quietly after turning and waving to make sure Cho knew it was him. He was pleased to notice that she'd switched on the nightlight in the bathroom; she didn't need it for herself, but after he'd bruised his shins one night early in his stay, she'd dug out the little light. She always turned it on before they went to bed so he could see if he got up.

The bedroom door was pushed almost closed so she wasn't bothered by the light. It was probably also meant to discourage him from doing what he was doing. She must have known he couldn't be depended on to obey her banishment decree, but she'd probably hoped he would have the sense to crash on the couch. She really should have known better, he thought with a smile as he slipped inside the bedroom, shrugging out of his jacket and stripping down to his boxers.

In the dim light, he could see that she wasn't in her usual spot on the bed. She'd drifted over to his side, her face buried in his pillow, one hand fisted in the pillowcase. Her subconscious missed him, obviously, which was reassuring.

Carefully, he lifted the covers and slid into her side of the bed, reasoning that he could at least benefit from the scent of her pillow. Lisbon stirred, making a vaguely interrogative noise.

"It's just me," he whispered, planting a quick kiss behind her ear.

Lisbon gave a little snort, then rolled over and curled into him, mumbling in her sleep. The only word he could make out was "idiot," but that didn't keep him from sliding his arms around her and holding her close.

Yes, this was definitely where he belonged. He would make sure he stayed, no matter what he had to do, he thought as he finally began to doze off.

mmm

Lisbon woke in alarm as someone tore the covers off her and began roughly pulling her jersey up. She lashed out, one fist connecting with her assailant's jaw, until she realized that the hoarse voice demanding to know where she was hurt belonged to Jane.

"Jane, stop it!" she demanded, pushing at him. "What the hell? Did you have a nightmare?"

He sat back, panting, his eyes wild. Pushing herself into a sitting position as she woke up fully, she asked, ''What are you doing here?"

Her irritation was swallowed by concern when he didn't respond, merely reaching out to take hold of her shoulders. She didn't like the look on his face. "What happened? Jane, talk to me."

He pulled her into his embrace, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. She could feel his heart pounding and the way his breathing hitched, as if he were on the verge of tears. Frowning in puzzlement and alarm, she rubbed soothing circles on his back, then slid a hand into his curls, massaging his scalp. He buried his face in her neck, his breaths puffing against her skin.

What on earth had happened, she wondered. Even after his worst nightmares, she'd never seen him like this, speechless and half in shock. The fact that he was undressed registered, answering one of her questions: he'd been here for whatever traumatic event had happened. She was glad he hadn't driven here in this state, at least. "Jane," she said gently, "I'm okay. I'm not hurt. What happened?"

He pulled back a little, looking intently at her face and calming a little. He jerked his head to the side, and she automatically looked in that direction.

The world seemed to stop for a moment as she stared at the red smiley face on her bedroom door.

mmm

Lisbon had no time to get dressed after calling Cho, but she managed to grab her robe and get Jane into his pants and downstairs, hoping he would come back to his senses once he couldn't see the smiley face anymore. She realized now that he must have woken to find it there and panicked, assuming Red John had killed or at least injured her while he slept.

She hadn't explained anything to Cho on the phone, so she greeted him with, "Red John's been here. Upstairs."

Jane finally spoke, his voice tortured, gravelly. "While we slept. He did it while we slept. He was right there in the room with us." He stared at Lisbon as if to reassure himself that she was still there.

Cho looked at Jane, then back at Lisbon, obviously concerned. "I'll be right back," he said, heading up the stairs. When he returned, he said, "And that wasn't there when you went to bed."

"No," Lisbon said. "That was a little after eleven. What time did you get in, Jane?"

"Almost one. There was enough light in the hallway that I would have seen it if it had been there then." Jane swallowed hard, getting his voice under control. "Lisbon, where did you leave the ring?"

She bit her lip as she realized what he was thinking—this was Red John's way of telling her what would happen if she stopped playing along. "Locked in my desk at work. I'll—I'll put it back on as soon as I get there."

"You can put it on now." Jane was looking at the kitchen counter, where a lumpy envelope rested. Lisbon swallowed hard as Cho quickly put on gloves and picked it up. The ring slid out, along with a typed note.

He handed the note to Lisbon, who read it aloud. "Dear Agent Lisbon, I stopped by to express my disappointment in your decision to end your engagement. Imagine my delight to find that the two of you have reconciled so quickly. Please refrain from further pre-wedding dramatics. I am very much looking forward to giving you the wedding gift I have picked out, and I am truly pleased to be able to congratulate you." She handed the note back to Cho numbly, trying not to think about what might have happened if Jane had decided to stay away all night.

Cho slid the note into an evidence bag and said, "I'll get the crime scene guys over here. You might want to get dressed first."

"We need to pack," Jane said. "We'll move to the new place today." He shot a glance at Lisbon, daring her to argue with him, but she couldn't. She couldn't imagine going to sleep in that room tonight knowing a serial killer had been there. Had he watched them sleep? The thought made her skin crawl, and she shivered.

Jane held the ring out to her, and she took it, sliding it onto her left ring finger. "Whose blood is it?" she wondered. "On the door. It's not ours, so maybe it's his?"

Jane shook his head. "He'd never leave DNA evidence like that. But that means he brought it with him, so he didn't intend to kill you, or thought he might not need to."

Cho hung up his phone and said, "If the ring was in your desk when you left, that gives us a timeframe for when he was in the building."

"It won't have been him," Jane said. "But it will give us a list of people who might be his disciples. We need to call Stan Moore—that will be his investigation."

"Right." Cho pulled out his phone again, stepping away.

Jane got to his feet and rested his hands on Lisbon's waist, standing so close she could feel his body heat. "We should run," he said softly.

She shook her head. "No."

"Teresa, he was in our room, watching us sleep. He could have killed you."

Trying to be reasonable, she said, "He couldn't have done that without waking you. I don't think he ever meant to kill me, just to scare me." She rested a hand over his heart, which was still beating too fast. "But thank you for coming back last night. I can't imagine waking up to that by myself."

His arms seemed to go around her without any conscious thought on his part. "For a second, I thought I had. Then I realized you were breathing."

She held him, hoping to give as well as receive comfort. Then she said, "I'm still mad about you going to see Lorelei, and I want to hear exactly what happened. But I won't try to call off the plan again."

"And I am sorry I didn't tell you. I will recite the entire conversation for you," he promised. He kissed her temple. "And I will try to stop giving you reasons to call the whole thing off."

"That would be nice," she murmured before pressing her lips to his.

He immediately parted her lips with his tongue, and she let him have his way, feeling his desperation in the way his fingers clutched at her and how he trembled slightly. She needed to get him calmed down, she thought. Maybe she needed to suspend her no-sex rule, just this once. Comfort sex would do them both good.

Cho cleared his throat. ''We're about to have company," he reminded them. "Do you want to give me your formal statements before they get here, or should I step outside while you two make out?"

That was possibly the stupidest question she'd ever heard him ask, Lisbon thought. But what she wanted to do and what needed to be done were two different things. She pulled her mouth free to reply. "Take Jane's statement while I get dressed."

Jane's grip on her tightened even further. "He can do that later. You're not going up there alone."

She wanted to be annoyed, but the look in his eyes and the lines of tension around his mouth stopped her. "Cho, we'll be right back."

He looked pointedly at his watch, as if to remind them they didn't have time for a quickie before the crime scene techs arrived. Lisbon nodded as she pulled out of Jane's embrace, taking his hand and leading him back up the stairs.

When they came back down, fully dressed, the apartment was full of people. The techs headed upstairs to begin work, while Rigsby and Van Pelt stood with Cho, looking worried.

"We need to find out how he got in," Cho said. "I know it was through the back, because I was watching the front."

"Right," Lisbon said, urging Jane to sit down on the couch. He resisted until she sat down herself, grasping her hand tightly. "Cho, you run this from our side, but remember, the FBI has the Red John case."

"Got it," he said. "Moore's on his way." He shifted uncomfortably, then said, "I gotta ask. Jane, did you do this?"

"What? No!" Jane looked thoroughly taken aback. "Why would I do this?"

"So Lisbon wouldn't break things off," Cho replied. "You had to have a plan."

Lisbon stared at Cho, then turned back to Jane as he shook his head. "I was going to use Grace," he said.

Everyone looked at Van Pelt, who frowned in confusion before saying, "Oh. Boss, he told me to remind you that I'm his second favorite woman. But he wouldn't tell me why."

Lisbon was relieved, even though she'd never really thought Jane had staged this. "Because if I wouldn't play along, Jane would have to find someone to take my place."

"Oh." She frowned, then blinked. "Oh!"

"Don't worry, Grace," Jane said, sounding almost normal. "I know I'm not your type. I'm not tall, dark, and endearingly goofy."

"And," Lisbon said quellingly, "he knows I'd never put you in that position. So yes, it would have worked. Jane had no need to go this far."

"Okay," Cho said.

Rigsby looked like he had tasted something sour. "But how did he get into Lisbon's office to get the ring and then sneak in here with one agent watching the outside and the two of you inside? What is he, a ghost?"

"Someone else took the ring," Jane said. "And if that person can move freely around the CBI, it's not hard to believe they could have copied Lisbon's key at some point."

Cho said, "He didn't come through the front door. But maybe he came in before we got here and unlocked a window."

"On it," Rigsby said, turning to go look.

"Or was here waiting," Grace murmured.

Jane spoke so quietly that Lisbon barely heard him. "We should run."

"Running only saves us," she reminded him. "It puts everyone else in more danger."

Cho said, "You let us worry about us, Boss. If running is the only way out, we'll support you."

Grace said, "But if you stay, you should let us wire up your new place. Motion detectors and cameras, that kind of thing."

Lisbon grimaced. She hated the idea, but she knew Jane needed some reassurance. She'd never seen him this shaken. "As a housewarming gift?" she said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Sure," Cho said. "That's my kind of shopping."

"And nobody will know but us," Grace said. "So he won't find out."

"Okay," Lisbon said. "We'll meet there tonight. For dinner." She glanced over at Jane's blank expression. "I'll get takeout."

That got Jane's attention. "Oh no you won't," he said. "Not for our first dinner party. I'll cook. Eight o'clock."

"We'll be there," Grace said.

Lisbon nodded, looking around at all the activity in her home. For the first time, she was glad to be moving out, so she wouldn't have to live with the memory of this morning.

"I'd say good morning," Moore said as he came in through the open front door, "except it obviously isn't. Are you okay?"

Jane came up off the couch too quickly for Lisbon to stop him. "You did this. You manipulated Lisbon into breaking off the engagement to make Red John react."

Moore looked surprised, but he didn't deny it. "Did he give us anything?"

Cho said, "Leads, but no evidence so far."

Jane grabbed Moore by the collar and growled, "This is my life you're playing with, Stan. You could have gotten her killed!"

"Jane," Lisbon said, moving to put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Do not assault the FBI agent." When Jane didn't move, she coaxed, "Come on. Let's get out of here. We can give our statements later, after we've had some tea and some nice buttery eggs."

"Wait," Cho said suddenly. "If you knew he'd come after Lisbon, then you had surveillance on her."

Moore nodded. "We did. Unfortunately, he must have known, because our agent was found dead a few minutes ago. We'll look into who knew about the details and see where that leads." He grimaced, looking at Jane. "This hunt takes a strong stomach. I knew Agent Manchester."

"We're sorry for your loss," Lisbon said. "Jane, let him go. I know it sucks to be used, but I never let any of your marks strangle you, so you don't get to strangle him."

Jane released Moore. "You put her in danger again, and I'll make your life a living hell," he growled.

"That wasn't my intention," Moore said. "But I'll keep that in mind."

"See that you do," Jane said. Then he slid his hand into Lisbon's and let her lead him out of the apartment.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: **Wow, I was blown away by the response to the last chapter! Thanks, everyone! And to those of you who thought Lisbon was being pretty selfish, hopefully she will redeem herself a little. :)

**Chapter 28**

Jane stopped sleeping at night, even after Cho, Grace, and Rigsby spent a week's worth of evenings setting up, testing, and adjusting a series of motion sensors and webcams to ensure no one could sneak up on them in the new apartment. They insisted on including the windows even though they were on the sixth floor, and Lisbon was confident there would be no surprise guests. And if there were, they'd at least be caught on camera.

But Jane couldn't seem to relax enough to fall asleep at night, though he made an effort to go to bed with her and be there when it was time to get up. When she woke in the middle of the night, though, she was usually alone. She hated it, although if she called out he would come back to bed until she fell asleep again. Even offering to lift the ban on sex didn't help—it was as if the healing he'd done in recent years had been reversed. He no longer seemed able to connect with her that way, to her horror.

During the day, he napped on either his brown couch or the one in her office, trusting the team with her safety enough to sleep. When they were in the field, he kept her in sight at all times, sometimes so close that she bumped into him or stepped on his foot. It was annoying, but she knew he couldn't help himself until he recovered a little from the shock he'd had. And speedy recovery wasn't among Jane's many talents.

She could only guess that part of him was trapped in the moment when he woke up to the smiley face and thought he was lying next to her corpse. She didn't know what to do about that, other than allowing him as much reassurance as she could in whatever form he needed. This was her fault, after all, she knew. She couldn't undo what was done, but she would do what she could to heal his wounds.

The wedding date was approaching, and she hoped desperately it wouldn't make things worse for him. There was no question of postponing or canceling, so they would both just have to deal with it. But she still hadn't proposed, and now she didn't know if Jane even wanted her to anymore. She wasn't sure herself sometimes, but she didn't want to make vows in bad faith. It seemed better to embrace the marriage as real, whatever challenges awaited. It wasn't like either of them was going to find someone else they'd rather be married to. And no matter how screwed up they both were, they loved and understood each other. That was a foundation they could build—and when storms came, rebuild—on.

She managed to find a dress, though she had to give up on surprising Jane since he insisted on going with her. It made the process more stressful, since he got anxious if she stayed in the dressing room too long. But his taste was impeccable, and it seemed to cheer him up when they made their choice. It was good to see him acting more normally, charming the dress consultant and making jokes with the cashier. She tried not to get her hopes up on their way home when he teasingly thanked her for picking a dress he could figure out how to take off her in under an hour. Maybe he would be okay once she put the ring on his finger, she hoped. His previous ring had meant so much to him that she was sure the new one would as well.

The rest of the team gradually lost the jittery feeling that came from a close call and began to be excited about going away for the wedding, which Rigsby had arranged to take place on a beach in the San Diego area. Grace had found them all rooms at a little boutique hotel nearby, and Cho was devoting his spare time to the question of how to ensure their security as unobtrusively as possible.

Their last day in the office before the wedding weekend, Lisbon was surprised to look up and find Stan Moore in her office doorway. She knew Jane hadn't been returning his calls, and she had ignored a few herself. "Agent Moore."

"Agent Lisbon. May I come in?" He looked uncertain of her response.

She could get away with not taking his calls, but Bertram would surely hear about it if she threw him out of her office. And he seemed chastened; losing a fellow agent would do that. "Yes," she said, her tone anything but welcoming.

He took a seat across the desk from her. Behind him, Lisbon noticed Cho, Rigsby, and Grace seating themselves at the conference table at this end of the bullpen, giving themselves a clear view into her office. A moment later, Jane strode into her office and perched on her desk, glowering at Moore.

"Mr. Jane," Moore acknowledged him.

"What do you want, Stan?" Jane asked coldly.

"I hear you've been looking into me," Moore replied. "I can hardly blame you, given how things turned out. It must have made you wonder."

"Whether you were Red John?" Jane said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "Yes, it did. That kind of manipulation seemed suspicious at best."

"So I thought I would make myself available for any questions you have." He leaned back and folded his hands. "It might interest you to know that my alibi for Agent Manchester's murder has been investigated, and I've been cleared of suspicion. We are working on a list of people who knew where he would be, but it's hard to be certain the people who knew didn't pass on the information, intentionally or not. But it does appear that you were correct, and that we have a mole in the FBI."

Jane made a derisive noise. "Other than Gabe Mancini and Craig O'Loughlin, you mean. I'm glad you are finally facing the truth. Too bad it took losing an agent."

"I suspected you were right all along," Moore said. "It's obvious Red John has connections, or you would have caught him by now. I'd like to point out that I am not nearly important enough to pull off half the things he's done."

"So you say," Lisbon put in, feeling it was time to take control of this meeting. "But it's not like you would brag about your connections if you are Red John."

Moore smiled, then turned to Jane. "When we first met, you warned me I wouldn't find Red John by looking at you. I'll tell you the same: you won't find him by looking at me. But I think I can find Red John by watching you, because it's obvious he keeps an eye on your movements. So in addition to clearing the air, I wanted to ask if you would consider letting me in on the location of your wedding, which I understand is this weekend."

Lisbon looked at Jane and was glad to find him looking at her, signaling that he wasn't making a unilateral decision. Although if he did, his eyes were making clear that the answer would be _Hell, no_. That was her initial reaction too, but Moore was making a valid point. She knew Jane didn't really believe Moore was Red John; he was just indulging in a little payback. And as invested as Red John seemed to be in this wedding, it wasn't a stretch to believe he might show up, or at least watch from afar.

"We'll have to check with our security expert," Lisbon said. "I don't want an extra person throwing him off. If he thinks he can accommodate an extra guest, we'll let you know the time and place."

"Fair enough," Moore said. "And when you get back, Lorelei is asking to see you."

"Me?" Lisbon said, shocked.

"No," Jane said instantly. "And if you think you can keep using Lorelei to cause trouble between us, Stan, you've got another think coming."

"I'm not trying to cause trouble," he assured them. "Just relaying a message."

Lisbon frowned. She couldn't imagine what Lorelei would have to say, but she could damn well say it to Jane's wife. Thinking of herself that way gave her an odd flutter in her stomach. She would have the upper hand for once. The prospect was almost irresistible. Did Lorelei know that? "We'll see," she told Moore. "We're not taking a honeymoon, so we'll be back at work next week."

It felt so weird to say that, to talk about a honeymoon like they were a normal couple and not two damaged people thrown together by a serial killer. But then, maybe all couples were damaged in some way.

Moore nodded. "I hope you can get away someday and enjoy yourselves. I know this has been a stressful time, and I'm sorry for my part in that." He rubbed at his temple. "I had no idea what would happen. If I had, I wouldn't have tried to provoke him. I thought he would send another note, or some other sign that he was unhappy. I never expected him to break in and threaten you directly." He paused, then said, "Does that strike either of you as an overreaction?"

Jane said, "He killed two people because weren't moving fast enough. So no, I don't think this was unpredictable."

Lisbon added, "You need to understand Red John a little better before trying to play mind games with him. Whatever plan he's working by making us dance to his tune, he won't allow you or anyone else to interrupt it. His disciples all talk a lot of nonsense about seeing life as it really is, but right now our reality is whatever he wants it to be. Or people die. Period."

Jane's voice was dry as he said, "Yes. And your little plan just shone a spotlight on that. Thanks for that, by the way. It's every man's dream to marry the woman he loves knowing that she's only doing it to avoid a death sentence."

Lisbon looked sharply at him, but it was Moore who spoke. "I am sorry about that too."

"Your feelings about the situation are utterly irrelevant to us," Jane informed him. "If you want to survive this, you need to get used to the idea that you're not the smarter man. He's had years to perfect his art, as he calls it. You've been a profiler for what, two years now? The only reason you got the case is that you're considered the boy genius, and the more experienced profilers didn't want any part of this."

"The best ones mostly focus on terror-related cases," Moore agreed. "Consider me taken down a peg, Mr. Jane. Or two or three, if it makes you happier. I have Manchester's death on my conscience already; I have no desire to add to that burden. But I can't ignore the fact that you are the people Red John is most interested in and communicating with on a regular basis. So as much as we would all like it, I can't promise never to darken your door again."

Let him darken it as much as he wanted, Lisbon thought, but he'd never manipulate her again. She should have listened to the part of her that had suspected it at the time. Dammit, she'd been working with Jane for more than long enough to be able to spot that. "You can promise not to pull a stupid stunt like that again," she pointed out. "Next time you come up with a plan, run it by us. Don't try to pull our strings. We have enough of that going on already."

"Agreed," Moore said. "Do you have any questions for me? If not, I'll get out of your hair. I know this must be a very busy day."

"One question," Jane said. "Whose blood was it on the door?"

Moore winced a little. "Manchester's." He noticed their reaction and asked, "You expected a different answer?"

Lisbon said, "I thought it would be the last victim's, the mother's. Since the message was for me."

"Was it?" Jane mused. "Because I certainly got the worst of it. Maybe it was for me."

"But I'm the one who called it off." Lisbon couldn't even be irritated that as usual Jane thought everything was about him, because she was so glad he was his normal self, if only for the moment.

"Oh come now, Lisbon. With all the things I've talked you into over the years, did you expect him to think I couldn't bring you around?"

The return of his old patronizing tone made her want to hug him, for once. She wondered aloud, "Why didn't he give you time to talk me back into it, then? Why not wait at least a day?"

"Maybe he thought we were colluding to get out of marrying each other," Jane said.

"Why would he think that?" Lisbon replied. "You're not the one with commitment issues."

"A last ditch effort to save you from a fate you consider only marginally better than death?" Jane said pleasantly.

_Ouch_, she thought. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Especially ones you know aren't true," she snapped.

Moore said, "So you think him breaking in and leaving the smiley while you slept wasn't about your breakup?"

"Oh, that was the excuse, no doubt," Jane said. "But I think he just wanted to give us a good scare. Soften me up, perhaps, for what's coming. Remind me that although I have healed enough to want to build a new life, he can destroy me again anytime he wants to. He doesn't even have to kill Lisbon, only make a credible threat to do so, and I turn into a shattered shell of a man who can't sleep and is only minimally functional in other respects."

Lisbon blinked, surprised that he'd admit it. Or wait—had it been an act? Oh God, if it was, she was going to kill him with her bare hands.

Moore looked thoughtful. "So he decided you were too happy?"

"From what we've gathered from our brief chats with his disciples, Red John isn't big on happiness. Suffering is the path to enlightenment, or some such nonsense," Jane said, waving a hand dismissively. "My being happy and ignoring him is not what he's aiming for here."

"Even though that's what he seemed to be saying originally," Lisbon said, frowning. "So you see, Jane, you were wrong. The choice isn't marrying you or dying. It's dying now or dying later, regardless of my marital state." She leaned back in her chair, trying to mirror Jane's deceptively casual attitude. "I might as well have some new jewelry to wear in my coffin."

A ripple of emotion disrupted Jane's practiced mask, and she immediately regretted her flippancy. "Is that meant to be comforting?" he asked.

"No. I'll comfort you later," she said, making it sound like a threat.

Jane grinned for the first time in what seemed like forever. "I look forward to it. Well, Stan, thanks for stopping by. We'll let you know about the wedding."

"If I don't see you there, please accept my congratulations and best wishes," Moore said to them both as he got to his feet.

Once he was gone, Lisbon raised an arm to wave the team in. "What did he want?" Rigsby asked as they settled in various chairs. Jane remained perched on her desk, apparently willing to ignore the discomfort even though there was no reason to put himself between her and the team.

Lisbon took in their disgruntled expressions. "He wants to come to the wedding."

"And you invited him?" Grace said in dismay.

"No," Lisbon said. "Cho, what do you think? Do you have enough people on perimeter?"

Jane explained, "He's not interested in the wedding. He's interested in whether Red John's going to crash it or not."

"You trust Moore?" Cho asked. "Because I'm good on the perimeter. But not if we have to watch for two people at once."

"Then no," Lisbon said, relieved. She didn't want to think about Red John during her wedding, which was why Cho had quietly recruited some people he could trust to be on the lookout. She wanted to be among friends, wanted to be happy, at least for that morning.

"Good," Grace and Rigsby muttered in unison.

"That's settled, then," Lisbon said. "Back to work. I want all reports finished so I can turn them in before I leave tonight."

mmm

Jane napped on the couch in her office the rest of the day, not waking when the team poked their heads in to let her know they were leaving. Grace was the last, giving Lisbon a brilliant smile. "I've got everything ready to go. See you down there. Don't be late for dinner, okay? Reservations are for seven."

In lieu of a bachelor or bachelorette party, they'd decided to meet for a nice dinner instead, early so they could all get some rest after the long drive and be ready for the wedding the next morning. Lisbon smiled back, genuinely looking forward to it. "We'll be there, don't worry. And Grace—thanks for everything."

"It's no trouble," she said, waving a little as she left.

Lisbon turned back to her work, hoping to wrap things up soon and go home. She wanted to talk to Jane, and the office wasn't the best place to do that.

By the time she finished, Jane was still asleep. She hated to wake him when he got so little sleep these days; as she stood over him, she saw how exhausted he looked. He could disguise it better when he was awake. It was hard to believe he'd do this to himself on purpose, but then, she wouldn't have believed he'd go as far as he had in Vegas, either. What she would believe is that it had started out real and he'd hidden his recovery for whatever reason had popped into his twisty mind. To keep Red John satisfied and away from them, she guessed.

She loved him so much it was overwhelming, keeping her on this path even though she knew it would likely end in disaster. Not that she'd come to that conviction recently. She'd known for years that she was sacrificing her career for Jane, and for months that she was willing to give everything else up for him too. But she'd been surprised by the sacrifices he'd made for her recently. He was never going to let her in on every plan he hatched, and he would probably never stop tricking her, but he'd been there for her when it counted, and that wasn't going to change. She could trust that.

His lips were slightly parted in sleep, irresistible now that she knew exactly how they felt on hers. She missed him with a fierce ache; he'd barely touched her since that terrible morning. It was so tempting to just ease herself down on top of him and go to sleep, but she knew he would probably panic about her safety if he woke up to find them in a dark and deserted office. So she knelt beside him and contented herself with a kiss.

"Mm," he hummed as he woke, returning the kiss languidly.

"Time to go home," she whispered, not lifting her lips from his.

"In a minute," he murmured, sliding a hand into her hair.

She leaned into his caress, savoring it, and put a hand on his chest to steady herself. His heart pounded away beneath it, letting her know that he wasn't as sleepy as he seemed. "Come on," she said, pulling back a little. "This is your last chance to cook dinner for your Lovely Fiancée, you know."

He grinned. "Oh, is she coming over? I've missed her."

"She's missed you too." She got to her feet and stepped back so he had room to get up. "Let's not keep her waiting."

mmm

By the time they got home, Jane had woken up fully. He'd processed some of their conversation with Moore as he'd dozed, but he had more thinking to do, he knew. And he knew that Lisbon wasn't truly interested in dinner, so he wasn't surprised when she walked straight toward their room, reaching the doorway before she realized he wasn't following.

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking dinner," he replied. "Isn't that what I'm meant to be doing?"

She gave him an exasperated look. He much preferred it to the series of worried ones he'd been getting lately. But the way her eyes narrowed told him she was on to him. "Are you asking me what you should do? Wait, let me look out the window. I've always wanted to see pigs fly."

He smiled, deciding to take the direct approach. "You've kept me waiting this long, Teresa. Why give up so close to the finish line?"

Crossing her arms, she retorted, "I was ready to give up a long time ago, partly because I was worried about you."

"You were right to be," he said. "This hasn't all been an act."

"No." She looked down, letting him know she was about to talk about something emotional. "It wasn't a surprise that you reacted like that, curling in on yourself in self-defense. I remember how you were when we met. But I would have appreciated knowing that you weren't going to stay that way for years again."

He nodded when she raised her gaze to him again. "I know. I intended it as a wedding present."

Lisbon gave an exaggerated sigh. "Then my wedding present will be not punching you for making me worry unnecessarily."

He grinned. "Just what I always wanted. Now." He clapped his hands dramatically. "What shall we have for dinner?"

"Surprise me," she called over her shoulder as she went into their room.

He got to work, deciding on something light since it was getting late. Taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he started chopping up salad vegetables.

A few minutes later, he felt a warm hand on his back. "Hey," Lisbon said softly. "You know it's not just because of Red John that I'm marrying you, right?"

"Yes," he said. "But it's nice to hear you say it." He chopped for a few seconds, then added, "And you know the same goes for me, don't you? This isn't a ruse or some kind of con. I take marriage very seriously." He hoped she would hear his unspoken question.

She must have, because she let out a long sigh and rested her forehead against his shoulder blade for a moment. "I'm not good at this," she said quietly.

"I don't need razzle dazzle, Teresa." Dammit, it had been a mistake to tell her his proposal story. Her competitive instincts were forcing her to try to come up with something creative and showy, which was not at all her forte. And they were coming down to the wire. He didn't want her stressing over proposing in addition to the wedding.

"Oh," she said, withdrawing her hand. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have gotten all dressed up."

He turned to look at her, the knife falling from his fingers as he realized she was wearing her New Year's dress. A slow smile spread over his face without any direction from his brain. "What's the occasion?"

"Our last dinner alone together as single people." There was a sly twist to her smile that made his heart rate increase. But his anticipation was interrupted by a chill that stabbed through him, and he thought, _I won't survive losing her. I don't even want to._

She saw his mood change, and her sexy smile faded. "What is it? What happened just now?" She was trying to keep the hurt out of her voice, but he read it in the slump of her shoulders.

"Every time I start to feel happy, I remember how easily he can take you away from me," he confessed. "Because that's what he does. Every time he thinks I'm happy, he takes it away from me."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "So you plan to never be happy again?" she asked softly, her tone asking, _Don't you see how silly that is?_

"I don't expect you to understand. I hope you never do." It occurred to him sometimes that she might be the one to survive. He didn't know whether to wish that for her or not. She was stronger than he was; maybe she would heal, as he never had.

Lisbon sighed. "Okay. If a spoken apology is all I can do, I have no choice. I'm very, very sorry I tried to give you the ring back. I was angry. But I think I knew all along that you'd change my mind. I have a hell of a time saying no to you, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I had. But you choose the worst possible times when you do." He couldn't resist needling her a little.

She thumped him on the shoulder. "Just say you forgive me."

"Of course I do," he said, giving her a quick kiss. The touch of her lips cracked the ice around his heart, and he shivered a little. He knew from experience how much the thaw would hurt.

But he also knew he didn't want to miss out on whatever happiness they could snatch in whatever time they had.

**A/N: **Next up, the wedding, finally. But don't worry, this isn't a fairy tale, so it doesn't end there!


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **This chapter gave me fits, so I'm a little nervous about it. I really hope it doesn't disappoint, but if it does, let me know. Part of the reason I embarked on this now-novel-length story was to sharpen up my writing and try new things, after all! I should probably mention that not only do I not own anything to do with The Mentalist, but I also do not own anything in here you recognize from Warner Bros.

**Chapter 29**

Their wedding day dawned clear and warm, promising to be perfect for the ceremony. Jane had managed to sleep a reasonable amount despite the unfamiliar hotel bed, reassured by the presence of Cho and Rigsby in the room next door, Grace on the other side, and Minelli across the hall. He woke with a smile, opening his eyes to see Lisbon leaning on the frame of the half open french doors, wrapped in her red robe and looking out at the ocean. She'd been restless all night, though she was tired after the long drive from Sacramento and had drunk several beers at dinner in a vain attempt to calm her nerves. Jane was sure the conversation she'd had with Minelli when he detained her in the hall as they all turned in for the night had been a last-ditch attempt to talk her out of this, which hadn't helped.

He was very glad he'd derailed Grace's plan for Lisbon to share her room last night, observing the tradition that the groom wasn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding. He'd claimed it was because he would be a nervous wreck without her, which was true, but he'd also firmly intended to make sure Lisbon's feet didn't get too cold.

He wished he could see her face. The way she had her arms wrapped around herself tugged at his heart.

This couldn't be how she'd envisioned her wedding day. Even though she hadn't been the kind of girl who started picking out her bridesmaids in high school, she must still have thought about it. The fact that she'd said she always thought she'd get married in church told him as much. And she deserved all the hoopla, a church decked out with flowers and her family all around. He daydreamed for a moment about giving that to her, someday when all this was over.

But this little barefoot beach ceremony with an armed wedding party was the best they could do for now. He drew in a breath to ask her to move away from the balcony, then decided not to disturb her. She wouldn't be in real danger until he put the ring on her finger. His urge to wrap her in Kevlar was irrational, like wanting to cover her in bubble wrap and plate armor. But he wondered for a moment what she would say if he told her he'd rather leave the wedding gown in its bag and marry her wearing a familiar blazer over a bulletproof vest and carrying at least three guns.

She'd say that Red John would consider shooting her to be too easy, too merciful, he thought. And she'd be right.

"Hey," he called softly. "Put some slippers on. I don't want your adorable little feet to get cold."

She turned, managing a smirk at his double meaning. "These little feet can still kick your ass, especially if you start telling me what to do."

"Perish the thought," he grinned. "That was merely a request."

"Then you might try attaching a 'please,'" she replied, pushing off the frame and walking slowly toward the bed.

"Please come back to bed so I can give you a foot massage," he coaxed, letting his grin turn sly.

"Save that for tonight. The only shoes I have to wear down to the beach are those torture devices I bought for Seattle."

"I told you to buy some better ones," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes as she perched on the edge of the bed. "Like I needed one more thing on my to-do list."

He chuckled, reaching for her hand. He rubbed his fingers across her ring, wondering how different it would feel to do that once the wedding band was there too. Worse, he realized. The engagement ring had kept her alive; the wedding ring would mark her for death. What kind of monster was he to do that to the woman he loved, whose only crime was to love him in return?

"Hey," she said softly, sounding worried. "Don't think about him today. Please. Let the others worry about him." She was echoing what Grace had said last night, and the guys had agreed.

He wondered if he was even capable of that. "It's hard to break such a longstanding habit."

"Well, first you have to want to," she remarked. The edge in her tone told him she was no longer bantering.

Maybe a little denial was called for, just for a while. "All right. For today, we will pretend Red John no longer exists. He was walking down the street, thinking his murderous little thoughts, when an anvil dropped out of the sky and made him into a particularly unattractive puddle."

Lisbon didn't quite conceal the grin that wanted to take over her face. "Right, because Red John is really Wile E. Coyote in disguise."

"No, in that case, an Acme safe would have fallen out of the sky."

"Or a grand piano," she mused with a mostly straight face.

God, he loved playing with her like this. "Or it could have been a tragic accident involving a rocket engine and roller skates."

That got him an actual giggle. "So we're the roadrunners?"

"Why not? We're still here, despite everything he's done. We just have to stay that little bit faster than he is."

Lisbon smiled, leaning forward as if she were going to kiss him. She paused just shy of his lips to whisper, "Meep meep."

He closed the distance between them, his chuckle swallowed up in their kiss. She pulled back long before he was ready to let her. "Grace is expecting me any minute."

"For what?"

"To get dressed."

"You can't do that here? I've seen the dress, so there's no need to hide."

"Ah, but you haven't seen the accessories. Besides, she's going to help me hide my weapons."

"Plural?" He made sure to look impressed.

"Plural," she confirmed, giving him a saucy wink. Then she slid her fingers into his, suddenly losing her playful air and tightening her grip convulsively.

He waited a few seconds, then decided to help her along. "Just ask me."

He saw the memory of that night in the diner reflected in her shining eyes. "Ask you what?" she whispered.

He brought her wrist up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her galloping pulse. "For anything. If it's in my power to give, it's yours."

Her smile trembled a little, and he held his breath. Was this finally it? He'd resigned himself to their getting married without ever having technically been engaged. But this would be perfect.

She drew a deep breath. "You've never said much about your wedding—your first wedding. Will you tell me if there's anything I shouldn't do or say? I don't want to remind you of anything painful."

Feeling abruptly let down, he summoned a smile. "As long as no one shows up drunk or needs bail money, we're good. We, uh, Angela and I agreed afterward that we should have just eloped. So this is perfect. Just you and me and the few people we trust."

She nodded, not quite satisfied. "I know it was Danny who needed the bail. Who showed up drunk?"

"My father," Jane admitted, the memory of his anger unexpectedly potent after all these years. "So I'm just as glad he can't possibly know about this."

"Will you tell him?" Her voice had gone very soft, as if she were worried she might spook him.

"I wouldn't know how to contact him, even if I wanted to. Are you going to tell your brothers?"

"Yes, when we get home. I couldn't risk it before. They might have jumped on a plane no matter what I said."

"They're not allowed to beat up a brother-in-law, right?" he teased.

"I'm the only one allowed to beat you up, and that's what I'll tell them." She got to her feet, but he wouldn't let go of her hand.

"Do you have time for a quick breakfast?" he asked.

"We're going to be eating a huge, ridiculously expensive brunch after," she reminded him.

There was a knock at the door, and she smiled as she pulled her hand free to go answer it. "But I did order you some tea and croissants."

"I love you," he grinned.

mmm

Lisbon left shortly afterward. Jane ate his breakfast, sipped his tea, then showered and dressed, trying to pace himself. It would take the ladies longer to get ready, and he didn't want to have nothing to do but sit and think about Red John's endgame. Maybe he should go find the guys, he thought when he was satisfied with his appearance. The distraction might be worth the friendly ribbing they would give him.

A knock at the door took the decision out of his hands. He was surprised when he looked through the peephole, though. "Virgil," he said in greeting as he opened the door. "Come to knock me over the head and toss me in a truck bound for Tijuana?"

Minelli smiled as he came in, looking around the room briefly before settling in the armchair by the balcony doors. "On the contrary, I've been sent to see that you don't wander off. Leaving you to your own devices struck Teresa as a bad idea for some reason."

"No need to worry, Virgil," Jane said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "A better man might slip out the back and spare her, but I have no intention of going anywhere."

Minelli harrumphed. "You can't save her by leaving. She pointed that out to me last night. If you vanished, he'd either kidnap her or kill her to punish you."

Jane couldn't resist arguing the point. "It wouldn't punish me if I went far enough away that I wouldn't hear about it."

"And you'd be able to live the rest of your life not knowing what happened to her? I don't think so. Sooner or later you'd have to find out. And if he killed her because you ran, not a one of us here would have an iota of sympathy for you."

"Rightly so." Jane clasped his hands, rubbing his fingers together. He was looking forward to having a ring to wear again; even months later, his left hand felt strange without it.

"This is a damn fine mess we made for her," Minelli sighed after a moment.

"It's not your fault," Jane said, but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears.

"Oh, yes it is. I started it."

"I could have done a better job keeping her at arm's length," Jane reflected.

Minelli shook his head. "No man is an island, not even you, Jane. No matter how hard you tried to be. And Lisbon is a sucker for a hard luck story. I should have seen this coming."

It occurred to Jane that most men minutes away from marrying the woman they loved would be getting congratulations. Not that he blamed Minelli, but this wasn't Lisbon's wake, dammit. "I once told her I would always save her. And I will." _Or die trying._

"I hope so," Minelli said. He gave Jane a long look. "And I hope you will try not to make her too unhappy in the meantime."

"I know it seems as though I live to make people unhappy," Jane said dryly, "but Lisbon's happiness is important to me. I'm sure she'll want to kill me periodically, and she'll probably punch me now and then, but I'll do my best not to cause her any real distress."

"I suppose that will have to be good enough." Minelli looked around the room again, then added, "If this were under different circumstances, I'd congratulate you on finding the one woman in the world willing to put up with all your shit. We should all be so lucky."

Jane let a little, but not too much, bitterness creep into his grin. He would not point out that he'd done it twice. "True. How is May, by the way?"

"Annoyed that I wouldn't bring her. She sends her best wishes."

"It's my hope that someday in the not incredibly distant future it will be safe for us to have the church wedding Teresa would like," Jane said. "You can bring her to that one."

"I look forward to it," Minelli said. He was silent for a moment, then leaned forward. "Tell me you have a plan."

"I have some ideas that may grow into plans," Jane replied. "The ball is in his court. He's having a grand old time playing puppeteer, but to do that he has to watch us very closely. Sooner or later, either we or the FBI will catch a glimpse, a hint, a clue. The longer we play along, the more overconfident he'll get. He'll overstep, and we'll be ready."

Another knock on the door interrupted them, to Jane's relief. He opened the door to let Cho in. "And how is my best man this morning?"

Cho looked him up and down. "Just making sure you're good to go. Rigsby's in there having a nervous breakdown about messing up the ceremony. Maybe you should hypnotize him."

Sure, and then he could hypnotize Lisbon to calm down, Jane thought. Hell, maybe he should hypnotize everybody. "You know how Lisbon feels about hypnotism."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure she's not going to like it if he throws up on her dress, either," Cho said.

"Just tell him that our expectations are low," Jane advised. "As long as we actually manage to get married and nobody dies, we're happy."

"Speaking of which," Cho said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to him, "here's the license. You need one witness, but you can have two if you want."

Minelli came over to inspect it, but before he could say anything, there was a brief knock at the door. "Are you decent?" Lisbon called.

"Only rarely," Jane replied. "As it happens, at the moment I have company."

"Good," Lisbon replied, coming in with Grace, who began passing out boutonnieres that matched the white rosebud in her hair.

Lisbon wore three, along with some baby's breath, above one ear, her hair falling free otherwise, unhampered by a veil. Jane couldn't help the goofy smile that took over his face at the sight of her. She was wearing the simple white dress they'd picked out, but with the addition of an emerald green sash that matched the color of the knee-length sheath Grace was wearing—and her earrings. "I like the bit of color," he remarked as he pinned on the rosebud. "Is that where the gun is?"

"One of them." She turned so he could inspect the bow in the back. "Can you see it?"

"Only if I look really, really closely," he replied.

"Where's Rigsby?" Lisbon asked, turning back around.

"Having a panic attack," Cho said.

Grace grinned. "I'll get him." She ducked out the door.

"So. Who's signing this with us?" Jane asked, holding out the license.

"I am," Minelli and Cho chorused. Cho looked at his former boss and continued, "No need for you to attract Red John's attention."

"No," Minelli insisted, "this is partly my fault. I'll take responsibility."

"Does anyone have a pen?" Jane asked, spreading the paper out on the nightstand. Cho handed him one, and he signed his name without hesitation. Then he straightened and gave the pen to Lisbon, who managed a somewhat shaky smile as she took it.

Lisbon was not the type of person who ever signed anything without thoroughly reading it, even if she trusted the source. It was part of why she always seemed to be swimming in paperwork, Jane thought. But at the moment, he desperately wished she would throw caution to the winds and just sign the thing. The silence seemed too much like hesitation.

It was not a good sign that her hands were shaking. Maybe he should have offered to hypnotize her after all.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand it any longer, she took a deep breath and signed her name hurriedly, as if she was afraid she might change her mind. She stepped back and held the pen out, her eyes finding his as if looking for reassurance. He smiled gently at her, letting her know he wasn't upset by her nerves. He couldn't blame her, honestly.

Minelli and Cho quickly added their signatures, just in time for Rigsby to join them and sign as the officiant. He did look a little green around the gills, Jane noted.

When Rigsby was finished signing, Jane took his hand in a firm grip, wrapping his other hand around his wrist to monitor his pulse. "Thanks for doing this. We appreciate it, and we know you'll do a great job. It's very calming to have a friend with us and not a stranger. We're breathing easier because of it. It's nice not to worry, isn't it? Just breathing in and out and noticing the lovely sea air. In and out." He demonstrated; the salty tang in the air coming in through the partly opened balcony doors was calming, at least to him.

Rigsby responded without the least resistance; he was laughably easy to influence even when he wasn't looking for reassurance. Jane glanced at Lisbon and found her looking slightly envious, but there was no way she was going to let him do the same for her in front of witnesses. The best he could do for her at this point was to get this over with. "Well," he said heartily, releasing Rigsby, "now that we're done with the boring paperwork, shall we go outside and enjoy ourselves?"

mmm

It was a short drive to the state park Rigsby had suggested, and then a pleasant walk down a meandering path until they reached the sand and stopped to remove their shoes. Lisbon realized too late how short being barefoot made her seem, but it was too late to do anything about it now, she thought as she set her shoes at the edge of the walkway.

Jane put his next to hers with a smile as the others followed suit. "Don't worry," he said, bending close so he wouldn't be overheard. "We all look short standing next to Rigsby."

She rolled her eyes at him, because that was what she did when he pretended to read her mind. But she let him take her hand so they could walk out onto the beach together, the others trailing behind.

"We're off to a great start," Jane murmured to her, sounding amused. "Our officiant can't take his eyes off the maid of honor, the best man looks like he needs a tub of popcorn to properly enjoy the best show he's seen in months, and our one guest desperately wishes he were anywhere else. It'll be a funny story to tell the grandkids."

He shut up suddenly, as if realizing that wasn't the best thing to say. He must be a little rattled after all, she realized. "You can tell it to Annie, anyway. It might help her forgive me for not letting her be a bridesmaid."

"She would have loved the loaded accessories," Jane remarked.

They stopped a few feet from the waterline and turned to admire the view. Lisbon thought Rigsby had chosen well; there wasn't much cover for anyone to spy on them, especially since what little there was had been claimed by Cho's unnamed friends. She felt bad about not inviting them to brunch, at least, but Cho had insisted it was better not to draw attention to them.

They quietly arranged themselves, Rigsby with his back to the ocean and Cho and Grace on either side of the couple. Minelli pulled out his camera and stood a little further back so he could get them all in the shot. Lisbon was grateful for his foresight; she and Grace had decided that nobody would hire a photographer for a secret wedding, and everyone else already had a role to play.

The butterflies in her stomach were getting worse. She looked at Jane and tried to breathe evenly as Rigsby pulled out his notes and cleared his throat. Jane took both her hands in his, squeezing gently and giving her his best "it's all going to be fine" look.

"Uh, we are gathered here today to—"

"Wait," Lisbon said, her voice emerging as a weird croak.

Everyone froze, but Jane virtually turned into a statue, his expression going completely blank. She hurriedly rose up on tiptoe and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Marry me?"

Jane let out a whoosh of air, his entire body relaxing again. As she stepped back, he gave her a grin that started out shaky and became mischievous. He was obviously contemplating payback, although she had taken a leaf out of his book doing it this way.

Leaning down to put his lips to her ear, he replied, "You are an evil, evil woman. Fortunately, I love that about you. So yes, I will marry you, with pleasure."

She shivered at the suggestive emphasis he put on the last two words, smiling as he stood up straight again. They beamed at each other for a few moments, until Lisbon looked at Rigsby, jerking her head to say _What are you waiting for?_

Rigsby swallowed, looking confused, and started again. "We are, uh, gathered here today to witness—"

Lisbon tuned him out. She kept her eyes on Jane's, seeking and finding reassurance that this was right, this was true.

In no time, Jane was sliding the engagement ring off her finger and putting the wedding band in its place, then replacing the engagement ring. He had no trouble promising to love and cherish her for richer or poorer and in sickness and in health, but his voice cracked on "until death do us part." She wondered if maybe they should have written their own vows and left that part out. Too late now though.

Jane lifted her hand to kiss the ring he'd just given her, holding her gaze. She knew he was silently renewing his promise to always save her, which had always been as much to himself as to her.

Grace handed her the ring to put on Jane's finger. His hand shook slightly as she slid the ring on, or maybe hers were still shaking a little. But she kept her voice steady as she said her vows. She knew she could keep them; she had been loving him for a long time now in all kinds of situations, and she had no doubt that only death would stop her. Maybe not even that. _I will save you,_ she thought as she lifted his hand to her lips to return his gesture. That was an old promise too, if only to herself.

Rigsby said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss. Um, if you want to." Even in this role, he was obviously uncomfortable telling his boss what to do.

They both shot him an incredulous glance, and then Jane said, "Hm. Tough call."

"It's tradition, so I guess we have to," Lisbon replied, pretending reluctance.

"Come on, before Rigsby dies of starvation," Cho said.

"Oh yes, eggs await us," Jane exclaimed, as if just remembering. "In that case..." He leaned forward and gave her a brief, closed-mouth kiss that could best be described as polite.

"Oh, that didn't look fake at all," Lisbon complained. He grinned unrepentantly, unfazed by the sarcasm as always, and she supposed he was getting her back for the belated proposal.

"Congratulations," Grace said, hugging them both.

Cho contented himself with handshakes. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon."

Jane laughed as they shook hands with Rigsby and Minelli. Then Lisbon said, "Come on, let's eat. I could use a bear claw."

Everyone turned to head back, but Jane held Lisbon in place by taking her hand in his. When the others had moved away, he pulled her to him and gave her the kiss she'd wanted earlier—and then some. She poured her heart into it, all the emotion she wasn't good at expressing, her hands moving into his hair. She'd wanted to mess it up a little since she'd come back to their room to find him looking good enough to eat.

His hands moved around her waist, fingers brushing the gun at the small of her back. She felt him grin and knew he was wondering where the other one was. He'd find out later, she thought smugly.

When they parted, he smiled at her, genuinely happy and without any mask in place. She returned it wholeheartedly. _Whatever happens_, she thought, _we have this perfect moment. Nobody can ever take that from us._

"I'm truly happy," she said, because she needed to make sure he knew.

He took her hand again, and they started after the others. "I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like," he said, sounding surprised.

She squeezed his hand. "Don't forget again."

"I won't, as long as I have you to remind me," he replied.

**A/N:** The anvil bit was inspired by an author's note from someone who was threatening to drop one on either Volker or Kirkland. Unfortunately my memory is shot so I can't remember the specifics. But it made me laugh and remember the concept, anyway, so whoever you are, thank you very much!


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: **Sorry for taking so long to post this chapter! I got bogged down a bit toward the end and finally decided I just had to be done with it, so forgive the abrupt ending. And writing time has been a little hard to come by lately, unfortunately. But all your lovely reviews of the last chapter kept me at it even when I should have been sleeping or cleaning my house or...well, you name it. Thanks for the excuse to avoid real life! :)

**Chapter 30**

When Lisbon and Grace had decided to have brunch in lieu of a reception, they'd decided it wasn't worth trying to get a private room for such a small party. Jane had suggested a diner, but Lisbon had objected to eating a big greasy meal in her wedding dress. So they'd settled on a nice restaurant with an acceptably egg-based brunch menu and online reviews that included several mentions of how great their pastries were.

With the ceremony over, everyone relaxed, especially Rigsby. As soon as they'd finished ordering, Jane asked Minelli for the camera, then fiddled unproductively with it until Lisbon took it away from him to play back the pictures of the wedding. There were several nice shots, she was pleased to see, including a beautiful one of the kiss they'd shared when they thought no one was looking. "You'll send me these?" she smiled at her former boss.

"Of course. May wanted to give you one of those engraved picture frames, so she told me to be sure to get something to put in it," he replied.

The arrival of the pastry tray put an end to conversation for a moment; everyone was hungry by now. Lisbon claimed a bear claw, while Jane made a show of perusing the muffins to torture Rigsby, who was next to be served. He ended up choosing blueberry, no surprise. In many ways he was very much a creature of habit, which made it all the more impressive that he'd managed to adapt to their new life together so quickly. He still had nightmares—he probably always would—but he seemed to be happy most of the time, despite the threat hanging over their heads.

When Lisbon finished her bear claw, Jane reached over to the tray and grabbed another one, setting it on her plate with a flourish of his hand. She frowned at him. "Trying to fatten me up?"

"You'll burn off the calories later," he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

She shushed him, feeling her cheeks heat. Jane grinned, leaning close to whisper, "It's okay, Teresa. We're married now. No one is in any doubt how we'll be spending our evening."

Making a face, she hissed, "Keep it up and they'll all be guessing wrong."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. I learned my lesson with Bertram."

He had a point, she knew. They were on their own time, and the team was here more as their friends than their coworkers. But she was still their boss, and she wanted to preserve some boundaries. And she had no doubt that whatever lesson Jane claimed to have learned, he would push those boundaries whenever the mood struck him. She might as well begin as she meant to go on.

The meal passed pleasantly; the food was delicious, and everyone behaved themselves. There was some goodnatured ribbing about Rigsby's appetite, and a debate between Jane and Cho about whether a strangely shaped strawberry looked more like it had swallowed a bug or was the mutant spawn of a mushroom and a wandering strawberry plant, which Lisbon ended by popping the strawberry into her mouth. Whatever its origin, it was delicious.

When they were all stuffed, Jane glanced at Lisbon and called for the check, apparently discerning that she was getting anxious about getting back to the hotel in time for their late check-out. She'd wanted to stay another night, but Jane had objected once he found out the others were going home today because she wouldn't let them waste a vacation day on this trip. Now that the wedding was over, she knew he'd be even more paranoid about her safety.

Lisbon was distracted by Jane playing with her fingers under the table, so she didn't notice what was happening until the table was surrounded by waitstaff. "Oh, no," she muttered under her breath.

To her relief, they didn't sing, but they did shout "Congratulations!" and applaud as one of them set a round cake on the table. She was too busy looking at the others to see whose fault this was to notice the cake until she heard Jane suck in a sharp breath.

The white icing was decorated with a smiley face drawn in a red glaze.

The waitstaff was taken aback as the wedding party stared at the cake in silence. Then Cho got to his feet, demanding, "Who ordered this?"

Rigsby and Van Pelt got up too as the servers all looked at each other in confusion. Van Pelt said, "I ordered the cake, but not that decoration."

Lisbon started to get up as well, but Jane tugged on her hand to keep her in her seat. "Let them do it," he said. "No work on our wedding day."

"Jane—"

He looked at her, his eyes serious. "He doesn't get to make us chase after him today."

"Okay," she replied, sensing this was important to him. She looked back at the cake, then at Minelli, who was frowning as he took a picture of the cake. "We should send that to Moore."

"Good idea." Jane regarded the cake for a moment more, then picked up the serving knife.

"You're not planning to eat that?" she exclaimed.

"Why not? He's not going to poison us," Jane pointed out. "It's a perfectly good cake, if this place's pastries are any indication. We can always scrape off the glaze if you prefer, although I think it might be strawberry." He dipped a finger in it and tasted. "Yes. I wonder what flavor the cake is?"

He held the knife above the cake, then hesitated, his mouth twisting. He shifted his grip on the knife as if preparing to stab the cake instead of slice it. "Besides, the symbolism appeals somewhat."

Lisbon wrapped her hand around his on the knife handle. "We're supposed to do this together."

He turned to lock gazes with her, and she knew that he understood she was talking about more than the cake. He'd never acknowledged her claim as his colleague, and he'd tried to keep her out of it in the guise of protecting her as his friend and later his lover, but she thought that being his wife, especially in their circumstances, gave her a claim on his quest he couldn't deny or brush aside. And his renunciation of his vengeance wasn't going to stand if Red John kept pulling stunts like this, she thought darkly.

"All right," he said after a moment. "Ready?"

"Wait," Minelli said, readying the camera."If you're really going to pretend this is a normal wedding cake, you should at least have a picture."

Lisbon took a moment to be grateful she had kept her romantic expectations for this wedding low. There had always been a very good chance Red John would insert himself into it somehow; she supposed she should be thankful it was merely a ghoulish cake.

"A little quiet, if you please," Jane called out. "We're cutting the cake."

Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and the servers they were interviewing paused, turning to look with varying degrees of curiosity and amazement. Lisbon wanted to roll her eyes at Jane's need for an audience, but she didn't object. If one of the restaurant employees was Red John's disciple, they would make sure he or she had something to report.

"Ready?" Jane murmured.

"Let's do it," she replied, tightening her fingers around his.

They plunged the knife into the center of the cake, then sliced downward and carefully cut out a wedge. Lisbon slid the serving piece under it and flipped it neatly onto one of the dessert plates the staff had brought out with the cake.

Jane cut off a small piece and held it up. "Open wide."

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ she thought as she opened her mouth. At least he had the good sense not to stuff it into her mouth, holding the piece for her to bite. "Mm. Lemon." It really was a good cake, she had to admit.

She swallowed, then cut off a piece to feed Jane. He made approving noises as he chewed, then took the plate and began eating the rest of the slice.

"Okay, so that's done. Can we pay the check and get out of here?" she asked, her enjoyment in the meal long gone.

"Go on, I'll get the check," Minelli volunteered.

"You don't have to do that," Lisbon protested.

Jane added, "We'll wait for the others." He looked around. "Even though this is most likely a waste of time. We should turn this over to the FBI."

"I'll call—oh damn, I don't have my phone," Lisbon said.

"I'll do it," Jane said. He dialed, giving her a grin. "Stan, how are you? Good. Sorry for the last-minute notice, but how would you like to come eat some wedding cake? I think you'll like it."

mmm

In the end, Rigsby and Cho stayed to interview the staff while Van Pelt went back to the hotel with Minelli, Lisbon, and Jane to get everybody packed and checked out. Lisbon felt grumpy as she and Jane opened the door to their room; she'd been looking forward to playing "find the gun" with Jane, but neither of them were in the mood now.

The white box with the red bow in the middle of the bed was more an irritation than a surprise. Lisbon stalked over to her bag, dug out her cell, and dialed Cho. "Hey. When you're done there, we have a mysterious package here to investigate. Jane, put that down!"

Cho said, "Be right there, Boss. The FBI field office sent over a couple of guys until Moore gets here."

"Good. Thanks." She hung up and frowned at Jane, who was vigorously shaking the box. It rattled.

"Oh," Jane said, disappointed. "Really, how unoriginal."

"What is it?" She wasn't going to bother pretending he might guess wrong.

"A baby's rattle. I don't know whether to be insulted that he thinks we need such blatant instructions or outraged that he can't even let us have our wedding night before he starts pressuring us."

"I'm going with both," she grumbled, extracting the gun and holster from the bow of her sash.

Jane's expression shifted from disgust to interest, and he set the box on the nightstand and flopped down to lie on the bed, his hands folded behind his head, for all the world like he was on his couch back at the office. She stopped undressing and stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the show," he replied, grinning. "I have to see if I guessed right about where the other gun is."

Ah. Maybe they were going to play "find the gun" after all, she thought. Too bad Cho and Rigsby were on their way. She finished untying the sash and tossed it on the bed, enjoying the way Jane's eyes followed the movement, sparkling with enjoyment. "And where's yours?" she challenged.

"Oh, in my pocket. I lack your creativity," he replied. He carefully drew the gun out of his jacket pocket and set it on the nightstand. "Why have we never played strip poker? I've obviously missed an opportunity to debate whether guns count as articles of clothing."

"Maybe tonight's your lucky night," she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor.

"Ah ha, I knew it," Jane crowed as he spotted the gun strapped to her thigh. He watched appreciatively as she removed it, then grabbed her jeans out of her bag and slid into them. "This is like my own private action hero movie."

"Ha, ha," she said, shrugging her shirt on.

"Yes, you're right. If this were a movie, the bad guys would've burst in while you were still in your underwear, and you would have taken them down with a combination of sharp shooting and kickboxing in your high heels," Jane mused.

"While you laid there and watched the whole thing," she added, rolling her eyes.

Jane chuckled. "You wound me. I would at least yell for help."

"My hero," she said, sitting down on the bed to put on her shoes.

"My kickass wife," he said, his voice still amused but also warm with affection.

Lisbon felt a shiver run through her. This was the first time she'd ever heard him use the word to refer to her and not Angela. She was his wife. Good God. She had a husband. What on earth was she supposed to do with a husband?

Jane's voice was gentle as he said, "You'll get used to it."

She looked at him, wondering if he was as surprised to find themselves here as she was. There was a strange expression on his face she'd never seen before. "You okay?"

"I'm better than okay," he assured her. "I'm married to Teresa Lisbon." He gave her one of his blinding, genuine smiles. She felt her answering smile spread across her face involuntarily.

A knock at the door shattered the moment, and they both got up off the bed, Lisbon going to meet Cho while Jane went to finish the little packing he had to do.

mmm

When Cho and Lisbon finally decided there was almost certainly no useful evidence to be gotten off the box, Lisbon reluctantly opened it. Jane wasn't surprised to find the antique silver baby rattle, and Cho was unimpressed as usual, but Lisbon seemed taken aback by what to her was useless extravagance. He thought explaining that Red John had probably seen Charlotte's room and made assumptions about what would be appropriate for this theoretical new child would best be done in private. Jane had a suspicion that he and Lisbon had different ideas about child rearing, like they did about money. But he also suspected if they ever took on that challenge, they'd find a way to make their partnership work, just like they always did.

Cho said, "You want to turn that over to the FBI?"

"Yes," Lisbon said firmly. "We don't have any use for it." She handed Cho the box, and he headed back to work. Lisbon closed the door behind him. "I wonder if the delivery person was the same person who paid for the change to the cake decoration."

"Probably. Does it matter? They aren't likely to find them, and if they do, they won't give us any useful information before they're killed off," Jane pointed out. His habits weren't the only ones that were hard to eradicate; Lisbon's instincts were obviously screaming at her to go investigate, even though they'd given up the case.

She sighed but didn't argue, going back to her packing. Jane was finished, so he watched her, looking for signs of hidden distress. As hard as they'd tried to pretend this was a normal wedding, there was no denying it wasn't. And there was also no denying the fact that he'd put her life in danger by placing that ring on her finger, although he knew that refusing to go through with it would also have put her in danger.

Marrying her had, in the end, been his only option. He was just lucky it was an option he found attractive, and even luckier that she did too, much as she'd struggled against it.

He'd make her a good husband, he resolved. He had some experience, after all, and a long list of things to do differently this time. He had learned from his mistakes, and from his years of observing and analyzing Lisbon. He was a different person than the self-congratulatory man who'd felt so smug at marrying Angela. He didn't recall worrying about whether he'd be good enough for her, or what their marriage might mean for her, though he certainly should have, as it turned out.

This time around, he was mostly concerned with the impact on Lisbon, so much so that it came as a surprise to him when he recognized the happiness bubbling up inside him every time he caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger or watched her react to being called his wife. He wanted more of that. Forty or fifty years ought to do.

Lisbon made one last pass through the bathroom and around the room, looking into drawers and checking on the floor to make sure nothing had been forgotten or dropped. He knew she wouldn't find anything, but he also knew it was useless to tell her so.

"Okay," she said when she finished. "Let's go home."

He picked up his bag, stealing a quick kiss as he opened the door for her.

mmm

It was late by the time they got home, since they made several stops along the way. Jane was always restless on long car trips, but this time he seemed determined to draw things out. Lisbon supposed she couldn't blame him for not wanting their day to end, but she hadn't slept well the night before, and she really just wanted to crawl into their ridiculously big bed with the fantastically soft sheets and grab a few hours of rest. Though she supposed since this was their wedding night, sex was also on the agenda.

At their last stop, Jane picked her pocket and declared himself the driver. She wasn't sure when she drifted off, but the next thing she knew, her door was being opened and Jane was calling her name softly as he undid her seatbelt. "I'm happy to carry you over the threshold," he remarked as she yawned and blinked, "but I think it would be best if we started out closer to the actual threshold."

"You're not carrying me anywhere," she informed him, but she did take his hand to help her get out of the car. "How long was I asleep?"

He grabbed their bags out of the trunk and headed for the door. "Not nearly long enough, my dear."

She caught up to him and took her bag, despite his attempt to resist. To soften any blow to his ego, she slid her free hand into his, and they went through the front door holding hands.

"Good evening, Brian," Jane greeted the doorman.

"Good evening, Mr. Jane, Ms. Lisbon," he replied. "Have a nice trip?"

"We did indeed," Jane replied. "In fact, congratulations are in order." He let go of Lisbon's hand long enough to waggle his left hand and display his new wedding ring.

The older man smiled. "Congratulations! No honeymoon, though?"

"One of these days. My wife's such a workaholic, I might have to kidnap her," Jane grinned.

"That," Lisbon said, "would definitely not lead to the kind of honeymoon you have in mind. Good night, Brian. See you tomorrow."

"Good night," Brian called as they got in the elevator.

Lisbon leaned against Jane as the elevator ascended, but woke up a little as they went inside their apartment. Left to his own devices, Jane would dump the luggage near the door to be dealt with tomorrow, she knew, whereas she would not be able to sleep until she unpacked.

But tonight he surprised her by taking his bag into their room and unpacking while she did the same. Then they went about their usual bedtime routine, with one exception: she substituted a silky ivory nightgown for her usual jersey.

When Jane came out of the bathroom and saw her, his smile told her he appreciated her effort. "And here I was afraid you'd already be asleep."

He'd thought no such thing, she knew. "Are you kidding? I can't wait to see what you've been planning for the occasion."

"Liar," he chuckled, coming to stand so close she could feel his body heat. "You're really thinking how weird it is to have sex because we're expected to."

"Well, yes," she admitted. "And...I keep being surprised by the idea that you've done all this before, even though I've always known it."

He put his hands on her waist and drew her closer. "It's true I've been reminded of her a lot today. But it's made me think how lucky I am to have this second chance."

He looked pensive, and she searched in vain for something to say that wouldn't send him retreating behind his jovial mask. When he spoke again, though, she could see the naked emotion in his eyes and hear it in his roughened voice. "If you survive me," he said slowly, "I don't want you to wonder."

She swallowed the urge to protest or ask questions, letting him say what he needed to.

"Don't ever think that you owe me anything, or that I ever want anything from you except to go on with your life and, if you can, find a second chance for yourself."

She was surprised. "You don't want me to get Red John for you, if you don't?"

He shook his head. "I want you to get as far away from him as possible. Go be safe, live out your life. My vengeance isn't something I want to bequeath to you."

"I might want it on my own account," she murmured.

"No. And I never want you to blame yourself," he said firmly.

She looked up at him, imagining scenarios. Her throat went dry as she whispered, "Even if it's my fault?"

He kissed her gently and whispered back, "Especially if it's your fault. Forgive yourself. Promise me."

She swallowed again. "I can promise to try." Because she doubted she'd succeed. "But you won't promise me the same, will you?"

"There are no third chances for me, Teresa. I wouldn't want one even if there were."

She dropped her gaze so he wouldn't see the tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't want to think about his death, even though she knew the odds were against them growing old and gray together. "Will you at least promise not to get yourself killed? That you'll do your best to live, and not go to prison?"

"That, I'll gladly promise," he replied. "I want this life with you, Teresa. I will do everything I can to stay with you. But if I can't, I want you to feel free to go find your second chance and never, not for a moment, ever feel guilty about doing that. If you someday find yourself having a second wedding night, don't wonder what I would have thought. Because I'm telling you now, if I'm not there for you anymore, I want you to find someone who will be."

"I still can't believe I got married at all. I can't imagine doing it twice," she mused. Then she drew in a deep breath and found the courage to ask, "Are you feeling guilty?"

"Always," he sighed.

She hadn't really expected a different answer, but it made her sad nonetheless. He'd once told her that some things can't be fixed, and she knew that he would probably never heal completely. But she loved him all the more for his attempt to make sure that she never suffered doubt or guilt in addition to grief, to spare her the torment he had never wanted to spare himself.

"I know it's pointless to tell you this," she said, "but if you're the one who survives, I really would like for you to forgive yourself."

He sighed. "I could promise to try." Then he took a breath and smiled, signifying that their heart-to-heart was done. "And now that I've thoroughly ruined the mood, let's get some sleep."

When they were curled up together under the covers with the lights off, she tucked her head under his chin and pressed her lips against his neck. "I love you," she murmured. "Guilt and all. I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

His hands moved against the silky fabric of her nightgown, one pulling her closer while the other stroked along her side. The movement was gentle and seemingly innocent, but she knew better.

"I love you too," he said. "Even when you're being so stubborn you won't admit you're too tired to drive, forcing me to lift your keys and then endure your sulking about it."

His voice was affectionate, so she didn't retort, closing her eyes and enjoying his warmth and the glide of his fingers along her hip.

"And I also love that you're really just wanting to go to sleep, but you're resigned to letting me change your mind because you think we're not really married until we make love."

She let out a little sigh. "I've looked forward to this," she admitted. "It's not just because of tradition."

"But you're going to tell me to hurry up or you'll fall asleep in the middle," he smirked. "Which we both know is an empty threat."

"We could pick up the pace a little," she whispered against his ear, dropping a kiss just below it. The best part of sex for her was getting out of her head, losing herself in sensation. She wanted him to drive her out of her mind; he was very good at that, after all.

"I'm not going to hurry this," he said, inching the fabric of her nightgown up her thigh slowly and deliberately. "I want to take my time. I want to burn every second of this night into my memory and yours so we never forget even the tiniest detail." He paused to suck on her earlobe for a moment, making her shiver with the desire for him to move to other places yearning for his attention. Then his hand moved up her ribcage to her shoulder, pushing aside the strap so he could plant a kiss there. "And when you see me smiling for no reason, you'll know I'm thinking of this."

She wriggled against him and ran her fingers along his spine, then gave his butt an encouraging squeeze. "That'll help my concentration," she said dryly. "Now every time you smile, I'm going to think about sex."

"Not just sex, my dear wife," he replied. "This isn't just a pleasant way for you to blow off stress or get out of your head for a while." He tugged at the neckline of the gown until he uncovered one breast. The friction of his fingers sliding across her bare skin drove anything she might have said in response out of her mind. "This is the real thing. It goes beyond the physical act. Make love to me with your mind and heart as well as your body, Teresa. Be in this moment with me."

"I am," she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

"Stay in this moment with me," he whispered back.

"I will," she promised.

"Forever, so that part of you is always here, always loving me, no matter how angry or hurt or anxious the rest of you might be."

Usually she tuned him out while he talked during sex, letting his voice become a soothing background noise, part of the sensory experience. But she sensed it was important to him that she was listening tonight, and she tried to concentrate even as he ignited her nerve endings inch by inch. "I'm here. Forever. Always loving you, no matter what happens, no matter what you do or where you go. Nothing can change that."

He shivered under her hands and kissed her, a slow, sweet sharing that gradually heated into something primal, claiming and acknowledging. _Finally,_ she thought.

But when he pulled back, he continued his agonizingly slow, thorough exploration of her body, even though she knew he had long ago committed it to memory. She groaned in frustration and tried to hurry him up, nipping at his shoulder while her hands roamed over him. He stubbornly refused to speed up, though, and she let out a long sigh.

"Don't hurry," he whispered against her breastbone. "Be in the moment."

It suddenly hit her: he wanted her to savor this, to mark its significance as he was doing. He needed to know that it meant as much to her as it did to him. She had to show him she was paying attention.

"You're the only man I can ever imagine being in this moment with," she told him. She felt his smile against her skin and buried her hands in his hair, luxuriating in the feel of his curls sliding through her fingers. Oh, yes, she thought. She would remember this, every moment, every breath. Every word. "I love you," she said. "In this moment and in all the ones to come."

"All the ones to come," he echoed. "Forever."

Not just for the rest of their lives, she thought, but forever. "Yes."

It was a very long time before she got to sleep, but she was smiling when she did.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: **I owe another round of apologies for not updating sooner, especially to those of you who've taken the time to let me know you're enjoying this story. I've got three major projects going at once at work, so there's not as much bandwidth for writing since I'm exhausted when I get home. But never fear, I won't let it come to a complete halt! I was so pleased that so many of you enjoyed the wedding night, so now, without further ado, here's the morning after.

**Chapter 31**

Morning came much too soon, as Lisbon had known it would. At least she wasn't woken by the harsh bleat of the alarm, but by warm hands sliding up her body. She hummed a little, noncommittally, and opened her eyes to see Jane smiling at her.

"Good morning, wife," he said, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

"Good morning, husband," she responded, concealing a grimace at how weird it felt to call him that.

He seemed to see it anyway, chuckling. "Ready for our first day on the job as a married couple?"

"It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not," she pointed out. "It's happening anyway." She laid her head on his chest, listening to the reassuring, steady thump of his heart. "I'm just dreading all the comments."

"It matters to me," he said, running a hand up and down her back. "If you really aren't ready, we can take off our rings for the day."

"No," she said immediately. She wasn't going to begin their marriage by lying about it. Since she wasn't his supervisor anymore, at least on paper, there was nothing anyone could do to them because of it. And she didn't want him to think for a second that she was ashamed or had regrets. "I'm not taking off my ring."

She felt him smile against the top of her head. "Good, because I'm not taking mine off either."

The alarm went off, and they both groaned in protest. Then they exchanged a kiss and slid out of bed to get ready to face the day.

mmm

Jane had expected to have his enjoyment of this day limited by Lisbon's lack of enjoyment. She was the one who had broken the rules by getting involved with him, in their colleagues' eyes, and he knew how sensitive she was to anything that called her leadership into question. And while the congratulations he would receive from the guys would be of the back-slapping variety, women could be awfully catty. He was confident she'd handle the situation well, but he knew it would be stressful for her.

One of the advantages of not trying to hide their relationship anymore was not having to argue about carpooling. Jane didn't mind leaving his car, since he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Lisbon today. Or possibly ever again.

They arrived early, which was good since it took quite a bit longer than usual to get through security while receiving congratulations and answering questions. They had only a few minutes to themselves upstairs before the parade of curious people who'd heard the rumor began. Jane stayed in Lisbon's office, holding off the most intrusive questions with his well-timed commentary, until he noticed that Rigsby had come in, completing the team. Then he slipped out to have a word.

"Hey Jane," Rigsby greeted him. "How's married life treating you?"

"I have no complaints about the first twenty hours," Jane replied with a smile. "Lisbon's hoping for a new case to get us out of the office, though."

"No such luck," Cho said.

"So what's up?" Grace asked.

"I can't come say good morning?" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "You could, but you haven't."

"Right," Cho agreed. "So what do you want?"

"Just to remind you all that being my wife is a high-risk job. I want your help keeping an eye on her."

Cho nodded, folding his arms. "You think we're too stupid to figure that out, do you?"

"No," Jane said, making sure to sound completely truthful. "Just making sure we're all on the same page."

"We got this," Rigsby said. "The boss doesn't go anywhere without one of us."

"Right," Grace added. "No need for you to drive her crazy hovering."

"Excellent." Jane clapped his hands together. "And to show my gratitude, I will now go buy you the most ridiculously expensive and complicated coffees you can devise."

"And breakfast?" Rigsby asked hopefully.

Jane grinned. "You didn't eat enough at my expense yesterday?"

"I never did get any cake," he replied.

"Coffee cake it is," Jane promised.

mmm

Lisbon had never been so glad to hear her cell phone ring, but at this point she would have welcomed a basket full of snakes if it would clear the gawkers out of her office. "Lisbon," she answered it, waving goodbye to her well wishers as they reluctantly filed out.

"Agent Lisbon, Stan here. Just wanted to update you on what we've found so far, if you have a moment."

"Sure." She looked around for Jane, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Anything interesting?"

"We found the young man who left the gift at the hotel desk. We're waiting on his phone records, but we think he also called in the change to the cake."

"Great. Has he given you anything?" Lisbon felt she had to ask, even if she already knew the answer.

"He washed up on shore this morning. Surfing accident, apparently." Moore sounded dubious.

"Yeah, right."

"We're tracking down his buddies now, but I'm betting this was a pretty low-level guy if he was so disposable."

"You're probably right." Lisbon didn't miss the days of chasing down Red John leads she knew deep down weren't going to produce any breaks. "Well, good luck anyway."

"Be sure to let me know if Lorelei says anything interesting, and I'll keep you posted if we turn up anything," Moore said.

Lorelei. Crap. She didn't want to spend the first day of her marriage thinking about her husband's ex-lover. "Thanks. Talk to you later."

Lisbon glanced into the bullpen. Jane had vanished, probably on some mysterious errand. Maybe now was a good time after all. If she had to see Lorelei, she'd rather do it without Jane and be spared Lorelei's efforts to get his attention, as well as Jane analyzing her reactions to what Lorelei had to say.

Decision made, she went into the bullpen. "I'm headed over to see Lorelei Martins. Let Jane know when he shows up, will you?"

The three of them exchanged looks, and Cho said, "I'll go with you."

"No, thank you. I think this'll go better if it's just girl talk," Lisbon replied.

"Oh," Van Pelt said, "then I'll go." She got up and began putting on her jacket.

"What's going on?" Lisbon demanded, hands on her hips, though she was pretty sure she knew.

"Come on, Boss," Van Pelt said. "I won't get in your way."

"I shouldn't have to point out," Lisbon said, annoyed, "that you do not take orders from Jane, at least not without clearing them with me first."

Cho said, "Like we need Jane to tell us you're in danger. We have to take basic security precautions, Boss. There's an overt threat against your life."

She sighed, looking at each of them. They weren't going to back down, probably because they were right. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

mmm

How Lorelei managed to retain her femme fatale aura even in prison orange was a mystery Lisbon had no interest in solving. She wished she'd taken a little more time with her makeup this morning, though she'd secretly enjoyed Jane's interference with that process: he'd kept trying to steal kisses while she threatened him with her mascara brush. Well, maybe she had a honeymoon glow, she thought. The sex had certainly been intense enough.

_Get a hold of yourself_, she thought as Lorelei was brought into the room. She did not need to compete with Lorelei for Jane's attention anymore. The ring on her finger was proof enough of that.

Lorelei spared a moment to size up Van Pelt, and Lisbon hid a smirk. She was so used to Van Pelt's looks that she didn't think about them anymore, but Lorelei was obviously miffed by the presence of someone more beautiful.

"Hello again," Lisbon said, not bothering to make her smile look sincere. "I'm told you have something you want to tell me?"

"Hello to you too, Agent Lisbon. Or do you prefer to be called Mrs. Jane now?" Lorelei had obviously spotted the wedding ring—or had a very efficient source of information.

"Agent Lisbon will do fine," Lisbon replied. "And this is Agent Van Pelt."

"Nice to meet you," Lorelei said, looking at Van Pelt again. "You're one of Patrick's friends too, I take it."

Van Pelt smiled coolly. "Yes, I am."

Lorelei looked amused. "It's good you're protecting her. Poor Patrick, I'd hate for him to be widowed twice."

"Is that what you wanted, to warn me that Red John wants to kill me?" Lisbon let her own amusement show. "Because I've known that all along, thanks."

"And you got married anyway. It must be love," Lorelei mocked.

"If you have a message for me, please get to it," Lisbon replied. "I'd like to get home before it gets too late. My husband's cooking me a special dinner tonight."

"That sounds nice. I hope you enjoy it," Lorelei said. "And I hope you aren't expecting me to be jealous. Patrick was an assignment, nothing more. He was sweet, but he could never hold a candle to Red John."

Lisbon nodded. ''It's always better with the man you love. Best if he loves you back. But I'm sure you know that."

Lorelei laughed. "Are you trying to ask if Red John loves me? Because of course he does."

"Really? The men I've known would never send the woman they love to sleep with another man."

"That's because their love is selfish and narrow. They can't see the larger picture. Red John sent me to Patrick because I am special to him. No one else would be a fitting gift."

Van Pelt snorted. "Oh, come on. Red John sent you to Jane because you look a little like Lisbon. He's barely looked at a woman in ten years, except for her."

Lisbon gave her agent a reproving look, but that seemed to be the right thing to say to get under Lorelei's skin. "You know nothing."

"I bet he pretended it was her the whole time," Van Pelt continued.

"Grace!" Lisbon hissed, shocked.

Lorelei tried to get her calm back. "If he did, that was his loss."

Van Pelt gave Lorelei the unfriendliest smile Lisbon had ever seen. "I wonder if Red John pretends you're someone else too?"

_Oh, that hit home_, Lisbon realized, surprised, as Lorelei snapped, "He doesn't need to. If he wanted me to be someone else, I would be, for him." She took a deep breath. "As I said, you don't definition of love is too narrow."

Lisbon said, "I guess so. I'd have a big problem with it if my husband slept with other women. And I'd think he was full of shit if he tried to justify it by telling me my definition of love was too narrow."

Van Pelt nodded. "You'd probably punch him in the nose."

"I'd _start_ by punching him in the nose," Lisbon corrected. "And if I found out he raped and killed my sister, I'd string the bastard up."

"Oh, not that again." Lorelei rolled her eyes. "Agent Moore told me that story. That's all it is, a story. You'll never make me believe Red John killed my sister."

"Don't you want to know the truth?" Lisbon asked.

"Yes. But you won't tell me the truth. You only want to manipulate me. And you're not even very good at it."

Lisbon shrugged. "You're right about that. Jane complains all the time that I'm a terrible liar. But you don't have to believe me; it's the FBI's case. I'm sure they'll solve it. So, if you don't really have anything to tell me, I have places to be."

"I have some advice," Lorelei said grudgingly. "You should give him what he wants."

"Who? Red John?"

"Yes."

"And what does he want?" Lisbon asked, though she already knew.

"He wants Patrick to be happy. And a man who enjoys children as much as he does should have one of his own."

"He did," Lisbon retorted. "Red John killed her, brutally. A little girl who never harmed anyone, who didn't even understand why he decided she had to die. And that's the man you're defending, Lorelei. As long as he's in the world, I'm not putting another child at risk."

"You'll change your mind," Lorelei predicted. "When you see what your selfishness costs, you'll give in. You might as well save a few lives and do it now. Even if you have to go see a specialist."

Lisbon ignored the implication that she was old. "So you're saying Red John will start killing people again if I don't get pregnant? How long do I have?"

"He understands it might take a while. But he'll be watching to make sure you're actually trying. Be very careful, Mrs. Jane. He has friends everywhere. He can get your medical records, check your prescriptions, see what you''re buying at the drugstore."

All of that surveillance would leave a trail, no matter how well-disguised, Lisbon thought. "Really? He watches me that closely?"

"Yes." Lorelei looked smug until Lisbon spoke again.

"For a long time now, I'm guessing. Jane says he didn't talk to you about me, so when you said you'd heard so much about me, it must have been from Red John."

Van Pelt made a little "ah ha" noise under her breath. "Oh, I get it. So Jane wasn't the only one pretending you were Lisbon."

Lorelei glared at her. "You know nothing."

Lisbon tried to conceal how her flesh was crawling at the idea that the serial killer thought of her at all, much less while having sex. She thought she'd leave out this part of the conversation when she talked to Moore—and Jane.

"Well," she said, getting to her feet. "This has been interesting. Don't worry, Lorelei. The fact that he hasn't had you killed yet means he must be fond of you."

"Tell Patrick I hope he'll come visit me again," Lorelei replied. "I could use some stimulating conversation."

Lisbon and Van Pelt were silent until they got back in the SUV. Then Van Pelt said, "Well, that was interesting."

"A little too interesting," Lisbon replied. "You've been taking interrogation lessons from Jane, apparently."

"I just know her type," Van Pelt said. "She can't believe a guy could want anybody else more than her. You and Jane should go see her together; her head would probably explode the first time he looked at you like he does." She paused. "All that stuff about how she wasn't jealous? She was lying. If Red John talks about you all the time, she was probably really happy thinking she was taking Jane away from you. But now she knows she failed at that."

Van Pelt's satisfaction was so obvious that Lisbon wondered what Lorelei was in her past. "We learned some new things. I just wish I knew what to do with them."

"I guess Jane's going to have to start picking the guys' pockets for condoms," Van Pelt said, trying not to grin.

Lisbon reflected that she'd liked it much better when her sex life was off limits in conversation. "Assuming Red John doesn't have someone going through our trash."

Van Pelt made a face. "Wow, I wonder how far down on the serial killer disciple food chain you have to be to get stuck with that job?"

"Whoever it is probably got caught making smartass remarks about the boss' sex life," Lisbon muttered.

Van Pelt bit back her grin and turned to look out the window, censoring any further remarks.

mmm

Jane was lounging on Lisbon's couch, enjoying a cup of tea, when Lisbon and Van Pelt returned. "So," he greeted Lisbon as she entered her office, "did you have a nice conversation?"

Her expression wasn't what he had expected. She wasn't angry or annoyed, her most common reactions to Lorelei. She looked thoughtful and...disturbed, he decided.

"Nice isn't what I'd call it." Lisbon sank onto the couch beside him with a sigh, sitting so close their shoulders touched. Whatever had her off balance was bad enough that she wanted reassurance, he thought. And that meant she probably wasn't going to talk about it in the office.

It was getting late, so he thought there might be a chance of getting her home soon. "Well, at least it's over. Let's sneak out early, have a delicious dinner, and celebrate our first full day of marriage."

She smiled a little at his hopeful expression. "Sorry, but I have to get some work done, since I lost part of the day going to see your ex-girlfriend."

She said it matter-of-factly, but he knew she was poking at him a little, so he said, "That makes her sound so much more important than she ever was."

"She did tell me you were only an assignment," Lisbon remarked.

"Oh, so you did talk about me." He let his curiosity show, but not his trepidation.

"You can thank Grace for that. You've been a very bad influence on her."

"Oh?" Jane was having a hard time envisioning Grace willingly sticking her nose into what she knew had been a very tense triangle.

"I think Lorelei reminded her of someone she really hated."

Okay, that he could see. Add that to the instinct to protect Lisbon, and Grace might have turned into a tiger. "I'm sorry I missed it."

He felt Lisbon shiver and turned to look at her. Something had definitely happened to upset her, but from the way she was trying to hide it, he realized she had no intention of telling him what it was. He would get it out of her eventually, but he hated that she was upset and not letting him help. "Anything I should know?" he asked casually.

She sighed. "Red John watches our every move, including what we use for birth control. And if he thinks we're not playing along, he'll start killing again. So I'm really hoping you have a brilliant plan ready for me by the time we get home."

"I'll do my best," he promised.

Lisbon nudged him affectionately with her shoulder, then got up and went to her desk. He sipped the last of his tea, then said, "That's a long, dusty drive. I'll make another pot of tea."

She smiled at him. "That sounds perfect."

Jane pondered her behavior as he brewed the tea. He'd honestly expected her to revert to the brittle anger she'd displayed every time Lorelei came up after his return from Vegas. Had marriage so completely altered her perspective? Or had whatever upset her somehow made her appreciate his presence in her life? He really needed to figure out what it was.

Lisbon was deeply engrossed in reports when he set the mug of tea on her desk, and she didn't look up as she thanked him. He resisted the urge to drop a kiss into her hair and said, "I'll leave you to it. How late do you think we'll be? Do I have time for a nap?"

"You can go on and get started on dinner if you want," she replied.

"Then how will you get home?"

"I invited Grace for dinner. She can bring me."

Jane was taken aback. He'd been looking forward to an evening alone with her, but he knew she must have had a reason for extending the invitation. "Ah. In that case, I think I will. I'll just go ask if she has any requests."

She waved vaguely at him, and he headed out to the bullpen. Rigsby was on the phone, and Cho was typing intently, so he made his way to Grace's desk. "So," he said quietly, "any preferences for dinner?"

"Oh, don't go to any trouble," she said, smiling up at him. "I'm coming over to work."

"The laborer is worth her hire," Jane quoted. "So pick something."

"Hm. Something spicy," she decided.

"Arrabbiata or curry?" Sometimes good manners were just annoying, he reflected.

"Oooh. Can you do curry?"

"Of course," he said, pretending to take offense. "Curry it is. I'm off to get started. I trust you will bring her safely home."

"I won't let her out of my sight," she promised.

"Thank you. And to put your mind at rest, I assure you I'm not offended by what you said to Lorelei."

Grace blushed. "Oh. I didn't think she'd tell you. I was out of line. But I think it was useful to know Lorelei has doubts about whether Red John really cares about her or is just using her." There was an imploring quality to her gaze. "I was just trying to get under her skin."

"Oh, no need to justify yourself to me," he said airily. "I've lost count of how many cases I've solved by provoking people. Lisbon too, most of the time."

"Yeah, but you never cared if she punished you," Grace said.

"Don't worry. I am living proof Lisbon doesn't hold grudges. And she secretly enjoyed seeing you unnerve Lorelei."

Grace looked dubious. "I don't think she did. I mean, she didn't mind when I said you probably pretended it was her, but it creeped her out when I said Red John did too."

Only a lifetime of practice enabled Jane to conceal his instinctive recoil. "True, but the important thing is how Lorelei reacted. Anything we can do to help Agent Moore turn her is good."

"I guess," Grace said.

"Well, I'd better get started on dinner. See you later. Oh, and you can assure Rigsby I will send you home with leftovers."

"Hush," Grace murmured, refusing to look at him.

Jane made his escape, thinking hard. He had been assuming all along that Red John was planning to destroy him by killing his second wife and child, but what if something more sinister was in his mind? He'd always been grateful that Red John didn't rape his victims first, but Miranda Martins' case showed he was capable. What if he planned for them both to survive his attack so he could continue playing his cruel games? Lisbon was strong; she could survive anything Red John did to her short of murder. But Jane knew there were things he could not recover from, and he couldn't imagine living with the guilt of knowing Lisbon had suffered simply because they loved each other.

He was beginning to think it was too dangerous to keep playing this game. He needed to change the rules.

Lisbon was right. He had planning to do.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: **After There Will Be Blood, I was so relieved to have this alternate universe to retreat into. While I'm probably not being kinder to them, at least they aren't hurting each other! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 32**

Jane had dinner on the table when Lisbon and Grace walked through the door, aided by Lisbon's text letting him know when they left the office. She'd grumbled about his request back when he first made it, but by now she recognized the benefits of having her meal on the table when she arrived. Lisbon wrinkled her nose a little at the strong smell; she wasn't a big fan of curry, which was why Jane had made one of her favorite salads as well. And a truly decadent dessert would make sure she left the table satisfied.

After dinner, Grace pulled an assortment of gadgets out of her bag and went to work. She started by sweeping for electronic surveillance, which alerted Jane that Lisbon also thought they needed to strategize. He poured her another glass of wine and asked, "So. When are you planning to call your brothers?"

She caught herself mid-grimace. "It's late back east. Maybe this weekend. I have to call them all on the same day, to prevent any hard feelings."

He knew her reluctance wasn't about him, but about the questions and disapproval she would face. He still didn't like it. "We could make up formal announcements and mail them."

"Oh God, that would be worse," she groaned. "They'd think there was something wrong for sure. Besides, then they'd call me, probably at the least convenient time."

"Would you rather do one of those online video chat things? Then I could be there with you and field some of the questions." He wanted to make this easier for her, but he had a feeling she wasn't going to let him.

Lisbon was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. "They'll misinterpret that as you being controlling. We might want to do it later, but the announcement has to come from me. I just dread explaining why we didn't invite them."

"Assure them that they can come to the church wedding. We could even do that in Chicago," he suggested.

She looked surprised. "You were serious about that?"

"Of course." He reached out to take her hand. "If it will make you happy, I'll do it."

She smiled, but there was a doubtful tinge to it. "It would probably make me a nervous wreck and make you regret marrying me at all."

"Not possible," he assured her.

With a sigh, she reflected, "I think this would actually be easier to explain if I was pregnant."

"Of course it would," Jane said, frowning a little. "But fake pregnancy gets tougher to pull off as time passes."

"I could pretend to have an early miscarriage."

It disturbed him that she was dreading telling her brothers she was married so much that she was considering lying to them about having a baby. But of course, her brothers weren't the only audience they had to worry about. "Is that what Lorelei wanted to tell you? That we need to get pregnant as soon as possible?"

"Yes. She said I should give in before it costs lives." She took a deep breath. "And that he watches me very closely, down to what I buy at the drugstore."

"Hm." They would not only need to be sneaky about obtaining condoms, he realized, but start buying pregnancy tests and prenatal vitamins. "Okay."

She shivered. "It creeps me out."

He squeezed her hand. "I know. Me too."

Grace came out of the bedroom holding something. Her frown told them what it was even before she held the small bug out for them to see. They stared at it in horror, until Jane gave in to the fierce rage boiling up inside him and got to his feet, snatching it and throwing it to the floor so he could stomp it into pieces. Grace checked her equipment and said, "Okay. It's not transmitting anymore."

Lisbon's eyes were wide in her pale face. "Was that there last night?" she asked faintly.

Grace said, "I'll check the front door surveillance." She dug a tablet out of her bag and fiddled with it.

Jane looked down at Lisbon, wishing there was something he could say to lessen her horror that their wedding night might not have been private. But he was too furious to think. He wanted to break something, preferably Red John's neck.

He was useless in this state, so he let himself pace, working off some of the adrenaline while he tried to focus enough to use biofeedback to clear his head. Lisbon sat completely still, barely breathing, watching Grace. Jane happened to be glancing at her the moment she found what she was looking for, and her expression told him instantly that the worst was true.

Lisbon saw it too, and a terrible, wounded sound came out of her before she bit down on her lip to stop it.

Grace turned her worried look from Lisbon to Jane, obviously uncertain whether she should continue. Then she visibly decided the sooner she told them what she'd found, the sooner she could get out of here. "He's dressed as a maintenance guy in a cap, but we caught some of the face. I'll see what I can do with it. He came in yesterday at 11:07 a.m. and left at 11:10, and he's the only one on here except you guys."

Lisbon pulled herself together. "We need to start sweeping every time we come home. Tell Cho we need more scanners."

"Sure, Boss. I'll leave this one with you," Grace said. "Um, I'll go get started on the photo. I've set up an account on our server that looks like it's for someone in Petty Crimes, in case he's monitoring my activity. He won't know we have this. Though he'll know we've found the bug, of course."

Neither of them said anything, so she got to her feet, putting the tablet back in her bag. "Thanks for dinner," she said awkwardly.

Jane's hosting instincts kicked in, and he latched onto the idea of useful activity. "Let me pack you up some leftovers."

"Oh, you don't need to do that."

"Come on." Jane gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen, giving Lisbon some privacy. He found a container to put the curry in and handed it to her. "Would you like some of the Sacher torte?"

"This is too much," Grace protested. "But yes, just a little piece."

Jane cut two large pieces. "Please, Grace. No need to pretend you're going to eat it alone. I hope you enjoy it. And thanks for everything."

Grace nodded eagerly. "At least it was just one night. And now he knows you aren't faking it. Right?" Then she blushed, realizing what she was really asking.

Jane shook his head. "If he had any doubts, he knows we're well and truly married now. Thanks for the help, Grace."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do," she responded as they walked out to the living room. She still looked worried, but he was afraid any attempt to smile would only make things worse.

"We will. See you in the morning." Jane closed the door behind her and slid the deadbolt home before going back to the dining room. Lisbon was no longer there. He found her in the bedroom, kneeling to check that the gun she'd secured to the bottom of the bedframe was still there. "I don't think he robbed us blind in three minutes."

Lisbon withdrew the gun and ejected the magazine, checking that all was in order. "Three minutes is a long time if you know what you're doing," she replied. "He could have swapped out the ammo for blanks, or any number of other things. I need to check all the guns that didn't come with us."

Jane repressed a remark about living in an arsenal. Given the discovery that someone had been in the apartment, it appeared that Lisbon's careful stashing of weaponry was more prescient than paranoid. "I'll clean up the dishes," he said, since it appeared Lisbon would be busy for the next hour or so.

While he finished off the wine left in their glasses and cleaned up the dining room and kitchen, he went over what the bug would have revealed. They hadn't talked much about Red John, or any plans for the future; all the listener would have learned was that he felt guilty about the loss of his wife and daughter, that he thought Lisbon might outlive him, and that they were deeply in love with each other. Also that they had a vigorous and satisfying sex life. It was the last part Lisbon was having the problem with, he knew. But of course urging her to talk about it would only make things worse.

Lisbon had taken over the coffee table for her weapon disassembly project, so he sat down across from her when he was finished. This was something she could practically do in her sleep, so he didn't worry about distracting her.

"We should run."

She shook her head, not looking at him. "We already talked about this, Jane. He'll just come after the people we care about if we do."

"Not if he thinks we're dead."

At least that got her to look at him. "Another fake death scheme? Right, because he'll never be suspicious of that."

"We'll have to be convincing, of course. Not just driving the car off the cliff with no bodies ever found. And we won't be able to go together. One of us has to stay and prop up the cover for a reasonable amount of time. The question is, which one of us is in more danger? And I suspect it's you." He sighed. "So we'll need to be on the lookout for a corpse matching your description. Then it'll be simple enough to engineer a fatal shooting while on a case. I will, of course, have a psychotic break and survive you only because of the vigilance of my colleagues, who interrupt my suicide attempt at the last possible moment. I'll then be tucked safely away in the psych ward until he gets bored with me, after which I'll escape and never be heard from again." He wasn't looking forward to more time in a mental institution, but nothing else would be realistic. "The team can find my badly decomposed body at some future date if necessary. Meanwhile, we'll meet at the prearranged rendezvous and start our new life. And Red John will have no reason to go after your family or the team."

He had her full attention now. "And you think you'll be safe in the psych ward? Seems to me you'll just be a sitting duck. No. It's too big a risk."

"Well, I could go first. You'd be strong enough to keep going, except you might allow Grace to move in with you for company. Eventually you might decide to move back to Chicago to be near your family and die in a car crash on the way."

Lisbon shook her head again. "My family would have to believe I was dead too."

"If you go first, it would save you having to tell them you're married." He meant it partly as a joke, but the look she gave him told him she didn't see any humor in the idea.

"I'm not going to put them through that, Jane."

He leaned back in his chair. "See, this is why I don't normally tell you the plan in advance. You always have so many objections."

"You make it sound like I'm just trying to be contrary. But my family is important to me, and I'm not going to cause them grief if I can help it. It was bad enough when you pretended to kill me—at least I was able to call them within a day or so after they got the news, so it hadn't sunk in yet. But to let them really believe, hold a funeral and all that—no." She sighed. "They were really angry the last time, Jane. I had to promise not to do something like that again. I don't want to be forbidden to see my nieces and nephews because my brothers think I will only cause them grief."

He realized she was immovable on that point. So all his fake death scheming was for nothing, because it would do no good to fake his and leave her for Red John to focus on. Still, he felt her brothers were being unreasonable. "You don't think being stalked by a serial killer qualifies as a good reason?"

"I'm not going to tell them about that."

"You don't think they'll believe you?" he asked curiously.

"No, they know your history. But I'm afraid I'll get an ultimatum—quit my job or not be allowed to see my family because I'm too dangerous to be around."

That, he understood. He'd abandoned some of his old ties when Charlotte was born out of a desire to protect her from the darker side of life. If he'd known anyone who was being stalked by a serial killer, he would have kept them away from his family at all costs. Damn. He'd never, ever meant to put Lisbon in a position where she had to choose. But it helped explain her dread of telling her brothers she'd married him. "So that's why you don't think we'll be expecting visitors. They think I'm dangerous to be around."

"Practically radioactive," she agreed. "They can't understand why I haven't moved on and gotten a promotion to a nice safe desk."

"If we're staying, they'll get to see why, because if you're pretending to be pregnant, you'll have to give up most field work. Which will assuredly drive you, and thus the rest of us, crazy in short order."

She sighed. "Lorelei said he'd give us time, as long as he thinks we're trying. So we fool him as long as we can, then maybe go to a fertility clinic for a while. Then maybe fake a miscarriage or two. At some point he'll have to accept that maybe we can't have a baby."

"Or he'll make a mistake, get caught, and we can choose to do whatever we want," Jane said, because the future she was painting seemed bleak indeed. "He obviously doesn't realize we're filming everyone who comes in the door, or he'd have warned his flunky. If we watch closely enough, we'll find something that leads back to him."

"Hopefully soon," she said.

He pondered their situation as she went about her tasks. Soon she was satisfied that the guns were in working order and loaded with real bullets, and she got up to put them back in their hiding places. Then he heard her go into the bathroom and start to brush her teeth, apparently intending to go to bed without telling him that she and Grace thought Red John might have a sexual interest in her. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed.

He got up from his chair with a sigh and went into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping kisses into her hair while she brushed her teeth a little too enthusiastically. She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror.

"What I don't understand," he said, "is why he's so keen on us having a baby if he's obsessed with you. Wouldn't he want to have you for himself?"

Lisbon froze for a moment, then rinsed and spat. "How did you come up with that?"

He chuckled. "Teresa dear, do you honestly think you can hide from me that you're upset? I knew you wouldn't tell me about it, so I cleverly tricked it out of Grace."

"I didn't think you'd take it seriously. You've always said Red John was yours, and you were the one he was interested in." She turned to look at him.

"In the beginning, yes. But when he realized that you were the one keeping me going, he must have become interested in you too. And Lorelei has remarked that we are a lot alike, so it's no mystery to me why his interest became attraction."

"Do you think that's true, then? That you're alike?" She was clearly hoping for a negative answer.

He grimaced. "I believe there are some critical differences, the most obvious being that I do not enjoy killing people. But he's obviously clever and good at manipulating people, so there may be a superficial resemblance, yes."

She tilted her head a little to one side, thinking something he couldn't quite read. Then she said, "That's good to know, if I ever meet him again. I like to think I've gotten pretty good at dealing with you over the years."

"I hope you never do meet him again," Jane said fervently.

"Me too." She folded her arms around herself, betraying her fear at the thought. "But if I do, I'm worried he'll be able to hypnotize me. He did it once; doesn't that make me susceptible? Can you teach me how to resist?"

"He can't do it against your will, Teresa. You had to let him do it before. I don't know how he convinced you, but he did."

"I can't imagine agreeing to that."

"I can. You thought you were saving a life, probably your own. And therefore mine." He didn't like to think of how frightened she must have been to see putting herself in Red John's hands as her best option.

"I wish I knew what happened," she said softly. She lifted her gaze to him again hopefully. "We haven't really talked about it since right after it happened. And you still thought I was fragile then. But I'm not now. Do you think you could hypnotize me and retrieve my memories?"

He stared at her. Whatever he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "Teresa, he wouldn't make it that easy. With all the things he put in your head, there could easily be a defense we aren't aware of. I don't want to risk it."

She swallowed, then said softly, "We both know that if he wants to take me, he will. And you might not be able to find me. I need to know what to do if that happens."

He drew her into a fierce hug. "Whatever you need to do to stay alive. Because I _will_ find you." He knew he was clutching her too tightly, but he didn't seem to be able to loosen his grip.

"Okay," she whispered, hugging back.

mmm

Lisbon knew it wouldn't do any good to push him tonight; he was obviously as freaked out as she was, just hiding it better. She just wanted to go to bed and forget this day ever happened. Every moment she was awake, it just kept getting worse.

She'd dealt with knowing she was Red John's target by consoling herself that her death at his hands, though painful and prolonged, would be a finite event, and afterward she would go to heaven and see her mother again. But the idea that he might want something more than to cut her up was terrifying.

And Jane had dealt with the idea that his nemesis might kill her by resolving to kill himself immediately afterward, but if she were missing instead, that escape wouldn't be available to him. He would torture himself with guilt and run himself into the ground trying to find her.

She wondered if she didn't owe it to him to run after all, despite what that would mean for her family. If Red John killed or kidnapped her, they would face grief either way, after all.

But they had some time, as long as they pretended to be playing along. Maybe they'd come up with a better solution, or better yet, catch him.

She gently pulled away from him and finished her bedtime routine. He stood motionless for a moment, then went about his own. After checking the locks on the door and windows, she slid into bed, turning on her side to face the edge. When Jane slid in behind her, she turned her head for their goodnight kiss, then took the hand he laid on her shoulder, threaded her fingers through his, and held their clasped hands against her chest. She had a vivid flash of memory, a rush of relief from back when his touch had been her lifeline.

"I didn't," Jane said quietly, sounding a little uncertain. "I didn't pretend it was you while I was with Lorelei. I was tempted, but it...felt wrong. Like I'd be insulting you. And I didn't want to have that in my head if we ever did come together."

"I'm glad," she murmured. "I wouldn't like being mixed up with her in your head, even for a night."

"I know." He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in deeply. "And I am so sorry that our wedding night is tainted now. I tried to make it beautiful for you."

"You did," she assured him. "Nothing changes that." She sighed. "At least we didn't talk shop. All he knows is that we acted like any other couple on their wedding night. Which I assume is what he wanted us to do." She decided not to mention how creeped out she was that now Red John knew what she sounded like when she came. It couldn't be helped, so she would just have to learn to live with it.

Jane was silent for a while, then said, "I just keep coming back to the same question: why in the world would he want to listen to us? If this is about creating a new family he can take away, there's no need to bug the place."

"Maybe he wanted to make sure we weren't pulling some kind of con?"

"Oh please. He didn't need to have someone break in here to confirm that we're a real couple. He knew that back in Seattle, remember?"

Lisbon remembered the photos and took a moment to be grateful that there hadn't been any video set up by their intruder. She had no desire to become the next Internet porn star. "To see if we're playing along? Do you think he heard you opening the condom wrapper?"

"Possibly, though it might have been drowned out by you yelling at me to hurry up already," he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"I was not yelling," she said with all the dignity she could muster. "You were being slow on purpose."

"I was savoring the moment. I hoped you'd join me."

"That wasn't the moment I wanted to savor," she retorted.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Admit it: you enjoy yelling at me."

"No, you enjoy making me yell at you," Lisbon clarified. She scooted back and snuggled closer.

"Guilty," he admitted, dropping a kiss behind her ear. After a long pause, he murmured, "I wish you'd tell me what's really bothering you."

She let out a long sigh. "I told Lorelei that I didn't think Red John really loved her since he sent her to sleep with you. She said my definition of love was too narrow, that he'd sent her to you _because_ he loved her. No other gift would do."

"Hm." Jane didn't comment, obviously thinking.

"So what if..." Lisbon swallowed. "What if he expects a gift in return?"

Jane slid his other arm under her and wrapped it around her waist, holding her firmly against him. "I make no claims to enlightenment or selflessness; I'm an unrepentant selfish bastard. And I will never willingly share you with anyone, for any reason."

"I know you won't," she assured him. But of course Red John might not care about the "willingly" part.

"We're taking precautions," he said. "You never go anywhere alone. We turn on the motion detector and alarm when we're here."

"And you need to stop wandering off at crime scenes."

"I admit," he said, "I'm not really seeing how that contributes to your security."

"The easiest way to capture a cop is to get her to turn herself over willingly. All he needs is leverage," she pointed out.

Jane stiffened. "Don't you dare. Don't you ever for a moment even consider it!"

"You expect me to leave you to a terrible death? Have we met?" she demanded.

"Okay. No wandering. I'll stay within earshot of either you or our armed colleagues," he said, sounding annoyed.

"Thank you." She pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

His sigh ruffled her hair. Then he whispered in her ear, "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "Good night."

"It always is when I'm with you."

She hummed in agreement and closed her eyes, banishing all thoughts of their enemy and concentrating on her husband's warm embrace.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **This is the Evil Chapter of Evilness that's been in my head for way too long now. It's mutated quite a bit, but you can still thank (or blame) American Airlines for seating me next to a very large (but very nice) gentleman who had apparently emptied a bottle of cologne on himself before boarding. Also, the third section of this chapter might offend or upset those sensitive to threats of non-consensual sex, so if you are, please skip that section. You'll get the gist of it later anyway.

**Chapter 33**

They fell into a pattern over the next few months. Grace determined that the bug she'd found had a limited range, so she began checking out all the neighbors within that range, starting with those who'd moved there close to when Jane had first seen the apartment. Since the building was new, that was a large group. She also looked at the building's staff but failed to find a match for their intruder. Because she had to do it while leaving no trace, it was slow going.

Meanwhile, Jane exercised his ingenuity picking up condoms in non-traceable ways, careful to keep them on his person instead of in the apartment in case they had more uninvited guests. Lisbon stopped filling her prescription for the pill, took her prenatal vitamins, ate as nutritiously as she could stand, avoided alcohol, and made a point of going to yoga with Grace more regularly. All while dealing with their normal caseload, because she couldn't bring herself to give up fieldwork. She didn't think she would do that even if she were really trying to get pregnant, not until she had reason to think she actually was.

She also kept going to the weekly poker game, though Jane hated it because she didn't take anyone they trusted with her. She suspected that the team took turns sitting outside, though, because she'd spotted all of them tailing her home at various times. And she was careful to text Jane when she left so he wouldn't worry so much. But she felt there was value in making a point of drinking only club soda in front of well connected people who might knowingly or unknowingly be friends of Red John's, not to mention going about her normal routine. If she did get pregnant, poker nights would eventually be a thing of the past, after all. Surely she was expected to enjoy the things parenthood would replace while she could.

Stress had always made her a little irregular, which in turn added to her stress, giving her several opportunities to buy and take pregnancy tests. She made a point each time of being distracted and moody at work the next day, ably assisted by Jane, who did wistfulness with Oscar-worthy intensity. She hoped he was acting, anyway. She couldn't shake the feeling that part of him wouldn't be unhappy if one day the little stick gave them unexpected news.

They'd have to run then, she knew. Jane would insist it was the only way to keep the baby safe, and he'd be right.

She wondered how long Red John would give them. At her age, surely a year wouldn't be unreasonable? Or at least six months? At what point would they realistically decide to see a specialist? She made a point of looking up which fertility specialists took her insurance on her work computer one day, just for good measure.

She broke the news of her marriage to her brothers, with perfectly predictable results, and ended up promising to present her husband for inspection within the year. She planned to put it off as long as possible, since she was sure her brothers would have no idea what to make of a man like Jane. But then, there were no other men like Jane, who took childish glee in the simplest things and seemed to regard solving a case and serving a perfect soufflé as accomplishments deserving of equal praise.

Jane began a new tradition of inviting the team for dinner on as regular a basis as their caseload permitted. He seemed to enjoy the expanded audience for his cooking, especially when Rigsby brought Ben along. He became an expert at homemade applesauce and cheddar-based mac and cheese, and even went out and got child-friendly plates and utensils. In return, Ben made it clear that Jane was now one of his favorite people, always happy to sit with him and play nonsensical games while the others played poker or just talked.

One night, as everyone was preparing to leave, Ben had a meltdown because he wasn't ready to stop playing. All Jane's assurances that they would play again soon had no effect on the screaming toddler, and Grace's attempts to distract the boy were no more successful.

It was Lisbon who put an end to the scene, taking Ben from Rigsby and saying firmly, "You'll be back soon, Ben. But not if you are going to carry on like this every time. Uncle Patrick won't want to play with you if it makes you sad. See, you're making him sad too."

Jane immediately enhanced the look of mild distress he'd already been wearing. "That's right," he said mournfully.

Ben sniffled, not quite understanding but realizing he wasn't getting the kind of attention he wanted. Lisbon walked to the door, everyone else trailing, and gave Ben a kiss on the forehead before handing him back to Rigsby. "Good night," she smiled at them both. Ben smiled back tentatively and returned her wave as his dad carried him out the door.

"Nice trick," Jane remarked after they were alone.

"I had three brothers," she shrugged. "I learned from a young age that firmness worked better than coaxing."

"I guess boys really are different," he mused. "If I spoke sharply to Charlotte, she'd burst into tears."

Lisbon smiled, imagining how helpless Jane must have been when confronted by his little girl's tears. She bet he'd been wrapped around his daughter's little finger. "I guess it's a good thing that if we have a kid, at least one of us will have experience with whatever gender we end up with."

"Either way, you'd make a fantastic mother," he replied, giving her a quick kiss.

She hummed noncommittally, then said, "My turn to clean up. I'd better get started."

"If you take the dining room, I'll do the kitchen," he said. "If Ben doesn't get better with his spoon, we're going to end up repainting the ceiling."

Lisbon chuckled. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy the look on Rigsby's face when Ben landed that clump on the light fixture."

"I won't if you won't," Jane grinned as he went into the kitchen.

He finished before she did and came into the dining room to find her standing on the table, wiping down the light fixture and the part of the ceiling she could reach. "Careful," he said, coming over to stand next to the table.

"Oh, don't fuss," she replied.

"You're the prospective mother of my children. Fussing is part of the package, I'm afraid."

"I bet you'd drive me straight up the wall if I were pregnant," she said, finishing up and lowering herself to sit on the edge of the table.

Jane wrapped his arms around her, and she spread her legs so he could pull her close. "You have no idea," he smiled.

She kissed him, then tried to push him back so she could hop down. He stayed where he was, though, meeting her questioning look with a thoughtful one. "What?" she asked finally.

"Do you want a baby? Once we're done with him, I mean. Because I assumed you did, based on your behavior when we started sleeping together. But I sense you've changed your mind."

She sighed. "Not really. I mean, that wasn't something I was doing for myself."

"It was something you thought I wanted," he nodded. "And now?"

"I still think it's something you want."

"Not under these circumstances," he said. "But what do you want, Teresa?"

"I wish I knew," she admitted. "Under these circumstances, no, I don't want to get pregnant. If Red John was out of the picture...I just don't know, Jane. I raised my brothers, so I know how much work it is. And..." She bit her lip, then asked softly, "Does it make me a cold-hearted bitch to worry that having a baby would mean I'd have to stop doing the job I love? I mean, I know it would only be while I'm pregnant, but still."

"No. It makes you human," he assured her.

"But part of me does want it. Partly to make you happy, yes, but also because I think about how smart and gorgeous any child of yours would be. And I know I'd love them."

"Smart and gorgeous could also come from your side," Jane smiled. "Not to mention ridiculously adorable. But I don't want you to worry that I'll be unhappy if we don't have children. You are all I need to be happy. Please don't ever doubt that."

She smiled, looping her arms around his neck. "Thank you. And ditto."

mmm

Lisbon glanced out the lobby door of the apartment building once she was inside, waving to Cho as he drove off. "Hi, Brian," she called as she passed the doorman.

"Good evening, Ms. Lisbon. Have a good game?" Brian asked with his usual smile.

"Pretty good," she replied. "Quiet night?"

"Yes. There's the tenant party up on the roof, so most people are up there. You going to join them?"

"Maybe. Right now I just want to get out of these boots," she replied as she got into the elevator. She remembered that Jane had left early to prepare his contribution to the potluck, armed with the short list of suspects Van Pelt had given him for who might have been on the other end of the bug. She supposed she really should join him, but the thought of being in the same room with someone who'd spied on them having sex was repulsive. Maybe she'd just savor some alone time and let Jane handle the socializing/sniffing out suspects. There had to be a limit to how much trouble he could get into with their neighbors, right?

Oh hell, she thought, she'd better go up there and make sure. But she'd stop at home to put her winnings in the safe and change shoes first.

She sighed in relief as she went in the door, entering her code into the alarm keypad so it wouldn't go off. It was the last thing she saw before someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a strong-smelling cloth over her nose and mouth. She lost consciousness just as her hand touched the grip of her gun.

mmm

When Lisbon came to, she was sitting in one of the wingback chairs in the bedroom, hands cuffed behind her and, she discovered, ankles cuffed to the chair legs. While she was relieved to find herself still in the apartment, she was terrified that Jane could come home any moment and walk into a trap. She'd texted him when she left the game, so he knew she should be here. What if he came looking for her?

She could hear someone breathing behind her. Was it just one person? If she screamed to warn Jane as he came in the door, maybe he'd be able to get away.

"Who are you?" She tried to make her voice strong and commanding, but her throat felt funny, so it came out oddly hoarse.

The low chuckle behind her made her hair stand on end. "I would be offended that you don't remember me, if I hadn't taken such care that you couldn't. Hello, Mrs. Jane."

"Red John." This time she sounded more like herself, despite the fact that she was as terrified as she could ever remember being.

"A pleasure to see you again, my dear. I'm gratified that Patrick is taking such good care of you." A hand began to sift through her hair slowly, combing it out to the ends over the back of the chair. She couldn't repress her shudder as he leaned in close, and she smelled his cologne, stronger and spicier than Jane's."You're even more beautiful than the last time we met. They say happiness does that. Are you happy, then?"

What did he want her to say? If he'd studied her, he would probably be able to tell if she was lying. "I'm very happy in my marriage," she answered. "The only thing that would make me happier is if you left us alone, like you promised."

"I promised nothing. I cannot be bound by what my late friend told Patrick. But I am sorry not to be able to oblige you. You afford me far too much pleasure for that." He chuckled again. "I've lost count of the times I've listened to your wedding night. Hearing the two of you enjoy each other is such a sensual feast. You come so very easily for him; it must go to his head. Does he always talk so much? If it were me, I would find better things to do with my lips and tongue."

Lisbon closed her eyes, trying to keep her disgust under control. She felt ill, whether from the knockout drug or his cologne she wasn't sure.

"That's right, sweet Teresa. Keep your eyes closed, and I won't have to make you forget me. Though I confess I enjoy the idea of Patrick coming home to find you smelling like me and having you deny that anyone was here. It would drive him mad with jealousy, don't you think?"

His voice had taken on the tone she recognized from Jane trying to relax someone so he could put them into a light trance. She couldn't relax if she wanted to, though.

Red John had paused, and she realized he wanted an answer. "Jane knows I wouldn't cheat on him. He'd guess the truth."

"Perhaps. And he wouldn't appreciate that the privileges I've granted to him are mine to end when I choose. He got to kiss you before I did, and he's had you all to himself for more than six months now. I look forward to the day it will be my turn with keen anticipation."

She shivered. She hadn't stopped to consider that to plant the trigger for Jane to partially rouse her with a kiss, Red John would have kissed her. She wanted to throw up, but she took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She needed to keep her wits about her. He wasn't planning to rape her, not here and now when Jane could come home any minute.

"Don't worry, my dear. A friend is keeping Patrick safely occupied. We won't be interrupted."

Swallowing hard, she realized why Lorelei had noticed similarities between Red John and Jane. They both were very good at reading people, although she'd never felt menaced when Jane did it, even the first time before she'd really known him. Jane liked it when she pushed back, challenging him; she wondered if the same was true for his nemesis. He certainly couldn't be used to it, judging by how the followers she'd met had spoken of him. "If you've just stopped by to chat, do you mind getting to the point? My boots were killing me hours ago and all I really want is to take them off."

"Keep your eyes closed," he whispered in her ear. Then she heard him moving and felt the cuff on her right ankle drop away. He slid the zipper of her boot down so slowly that she wondered if he had a weird foot fetish. God, he wasn't aroused, was he?

He not only slipped the boot off, but he carefully peeled off her thin sock, running his hands over the arch of her bare foot. She bit down on a whimper and forced herself not to react as his fingers found ticklish spots. Then he refastened the cuff and gave her left foot the same slow, agonizing treatment.

She dared peek just a little through her lashes, trying to see if he was in the right place for her to kick him in the face and knock him out, but he'd carefully stayed to one side, his head bent as he focused his attention on her foot. His hair was dyed dark brown, grey just at the roots, she noticed before she closed her eyes tightly again.

She heard him stand up and move back behind the chair. "You have lovely feet, but you could use a pedicure. You shouldn't neglect the details, you know."

"I'll put that on my to-do list," she said dryly.

"You should. Your predecessor was perfectly groomed." He paused just long enough for her to remember that he'd painted Angela Jane's toenails with her own blood. "I would urge you to get a massage too, but I dislike the thought of anyone else's hands gliding over your beautiful pale skin. Tell me, does Patrick ever trace patterns in your freckles? Making his own private constellations?"

"Sometimes," was all she could think of to say. That was an understatement; it was one of Jane's favorite early morning activities, especially if he thought it might lead to his most favorite morning activity.

"I so look forward to doing the same." He laid a finger against the hollow of her throat and drew a little pattern on the skin of her chest exposed by her buttoned blouse. Goosebumps sprang up in his wake, and he hummed a little as he noticed. "Aroused, Teresa?"

"Anything but," she retorted.

"A pity. Still, that isn't the game we're playing just now. You asked me to come to the point, so I shall." He leaned down so far she felt his cheek press against the side of her head, and his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "You will have a child, Teresa. No more stalling. Do you think I'm not watching Patrick? That I don't know what he's doing? Tell him to impregnate you, or I will do it for him. And I may not give you back afterward."

His hands closed over her shoulders in a firm, almost painful grip, and he used his jaw to press her head to one side so he could kiss her exposed neck, then suck hard, marking her.

"How much time do I have?" she managed to whisper. "What if I can't?"

He stepped back from her. "I'll require proof that you're barren, Teresa. And by proof, I mean spending every night for a year in my bed without conceiving. Then I might consider giving Patrick back his wife. If he still wants you after that." He paused, and she heard a bottle being unstoppered. "And now I must go. I shan't say good-bye, my dear, but only _au revoir_."

She fought not to breathe in as the cloth covered her nose and mouth, but he held it firmly in place until she had no choice.

mmm

Jane called out, "Honey, I'm home!" as he came through the door, holding his empty casserole dish in one hand and punching in his alarm code with the other. "And no, I don't have any meatballs left. Did you find the ones I put aside for you in the fridge?"

The silence that followed his greeting sent a cold shiver down his spine. He put the dish down quietly on the floor and tiptoed to the couch, bending to retrieve the gun attached beneath it. "Teresa?" He called again. But he heard nothing except the pounding of his own heart.

He tried to swallow down his sick fear, aware he was gripping the gun too tightly, as he went toward their bedroom. Lisbon was slumped awkwardly in one of the wingback chairs, which had been pulled out from the corner, and Jane went straight to her, relieved to find her pulse and breathing steady. He slipped the gun into his pocket so he could use both hands to cradle her face, calling her name gently. She didn't respond, and as he leaned close he smelled something odd. After a moment, he realized the chemical smell on her face was chloroform or something like it.

He stood back for a moment, eyes darting around the room and landing on her boots, lined up neatly beside the chair. Frowning, he put that strange detail aside for a moment, realizing Lisbon's awkward posture was because her hands were cuffed behind her back.

He dug in her pants pocket and fished out her handcuff key, releasing her and setting the cuffs aside before gently lifting her and carrying her the few steps to the bed. He had no idea how long she'd be unconscious, so he wanted her to be comfortable. When he'd settled her, he grabbed the chenille throw at the foot of the bed and tucked it around her carefully, knowing it would keep her warm. He often used it as a lap blanket while reading in the winter, despite Lisbon's teasing about becoming an old man.

He stroked her hair, focusing on its silky texture to calm himself down, then bent to kiss her forehead. His nose wrinkled at the new scent he noticed, and he sniffed her hair more closely. Sandalwood, he thought. Typically a man's scent. And he'd been close enough to Lisbon for long enough that it had lingered on her.

He took a deep breath as the implications sunk in, then began to examine her more closely. Her clothes didn't look disturbed, but the hickey on her neck made him go cold all over. He knew he hadn't done it; he took care never to leave evidence of his attentions where anyone else would see, out of consideration for Lisbon's privacy. Whoever had left that mark had meant it to be seen. Had meant him to see.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed. Cho picked up on the second ring, but Jane started speaking before he could even get a greeting out. "He's been here and drugged Lisbon."

"On my way," Cho said immediately, then hung up.

Jane dialed Grace next. She took much longer to answer and was out of breath when she did. "Jane? Something wrong?"

"Yes. He was here. Lisbon's drugged."

"Oh my God. Is she okay?" Grace gasped.

"I think so. I need you to come tell me if the camera caught him." He heard Ben shrieking in the background, no doubt woken by the phone.

"Be right there," she said.

Jane paced, not wanting to disturb anything else that might hold clues, then went to look around the rest of the apartment, put the gun back, and pick up the casserole dish. When he got back to the bedroom, Lisbon was frowning and murmuring, trying to wake.

"Teresa," he called, perching on the side of the bed. "You're safe. I'm right here."

Her eyes fluttered open, and after a second she focused on him. "Jane," she said in a croaky whisper.

"I'll get you some water," he offered, when it appeared she wasn't ready to say anything more.

When he got back from the kitchen with a glass of water, she was sitting up, her knees pulled up against her chest and the blanket wrapped tightly around her. She freed one shaking hand to reach for the glass, but he kept his grip on it to steady it as she drank.

"Are you hurt?" He had to ask; the look in her wide eyes was tearing at his heart.

"No," she whispered.

"What did he want?" He thought he knew, but it seemed a safer question than the others racing through his mind.

Her gaze dropped, and she released the glass, tucking her hand inside the blanket again. "To tell me to get pregnant. Or he'd make sure."

Jane bit down on the fury that wanted to erupt out of him. That was the last thing she needed right now. He carefully set the glass on the nightstand, afraid he would give in to the impulse to fling it against the wall.

Lisbon suddenly lifted her head. "Jane, sweep for bugs. I didn't get a chance; he was here when I came in."

Jane nodded, getting to his feet, glad for something to do. They both carried the scanners with them to prevent their being tampered with, so all he had to do was reach into his pants pocket and get started. But only part of his attention was on what he was doing; most of his mind was busy analyzing Lisbon's behavior. Red John might not have physically hurt her, but he'd certainly traumatized her. It would take more than mere threats to do that, he thought grimly.

He wondered if she was ready to run now. And he realized he no longer had any intention of running and hiding, letting Red John continue to control their lives. He was done bargaining.

He was going to kill the bastard.

mmm

**Author's Note:** Okay, I admit, I creeped myself out writing Red John. Anybody know a good self-help book for authors recovering from writing serial killers? I am SO glad I didn't invent him! And if you're curious, the plot that originally occurred to me on the flight was the one Red John mentions in passing, of having Lisbon smell like his cologne but deny to Jane that anyone had been in the apartment. Then I decided not to have her hypnotized to forget him again. Though that really might have been kinder, I admit!


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone for sticking with me through the creepy last chapter! You guys are awesome. So I wanted to update as soon as possible, even if it's a little shorter than usual, to reward your fortitude and especially the generosity of those of you who reviewed. Reading them was better than psychotherapy any day. :)

**Chapter 34**

Cho knocked on the door just as Jane was finishing his sweep of the apartment. "She okay?" Cho asked as Jane opened the door.

"She's awake. She says she's not hurt." Jane swallowed, trying to sound less like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Holding in screams of rage was hard on the throat, he reflected.

"You okay?" Cho asked next, frowning.

Jane intended to toss out a glib "never better" or maybe a sarcastic "just peachy," but in the end he just shook his head. Cho clapped him on the shoulder, then noticed the scanner. "I'll do that. You go be with her."

"I was finished," Jane said.

"I'll just make sure," Cho replied. When Jane didn't move, Cho made a barely perceptible grimace, took the scanner from Jane's numb fingers, and went toward the bedroom.

Lisbon met him halfway, obviously trying for her usual composure but unable to quite pull it off wrapped in a blanket with her bare feet poking out. Jane would have thought she looked adorably waif like except for the terror lurking at the back of her eyes.

Cho said, "Hey, Boss. You okay?"

Lisbon nodded. "Thanks for coming."

"I'll do a quick sweep. Anything need bagged?"

"My—my boots. He took them off. He wasn't wearing gloves." She swallowed hard. "I don't need them back."

Jane thought he might have a stroke. He'd taken off her boots? Why?

"Got it," Cho said, going past her to get to work.

She found her second in command's matter-of-fact attitude bracing, Jane realized through the haze of his own fear and fury. As long as Cho was Cho, she could be Agent Lisbon. And that was who she needed to be, because Teresa was probably having a screaming breakdown somewhere in the back of her mind. Much like her husband was. Brilliant Consultant Jane was clearly needed instead, but he wasn't returning calls at the moment.

Another knock spurred Jane into movement, not bothering to look through the peephole once he heard the cheerful babbling on the other side. Grace, Rigsby, and Ben hurried through the door before he'd even opened it all the way.

"Boss!" the two adults said, while Ben latched onto Jane's legs with a squeal of glee.

"I'm fine," Lisbon said, sounding almost like she meant it. "Van Pelt, check the camera, please."

Jane bent to pick Ben up, then realized he'd just made a mistake. Holding a happy, innocent child was bringing up his emotions, which had gone numb when he realized what had happened. It took enormous effort to hold on to his fragile composure.

"Sorry," Rigsby murmured. "Sarah's out of town, and it didn't sound like there was still any danger."

"It's fine," Jane said hoarsely. He turned quickly, causing Ben to clap in delight, and headed for the kitchen. "Let's see what we have for a late night snack, shall we?"

Ben frowned a little, then reached up to pat Jane's cheek, which Jane belatedly realized was wet. He scrubbed his face with his free hand, then opened the refrigerator.

"He shouldn't be hungry," Rigsby remarked, coming into the kitchen. "You okay?"

"Getting there," Jane lied. He noted that Rigsby didn't look convinced; his expression was clearly saying "then why aren't you with Lisbon?" But Jane knew that until he calmed down, he would only add to her stress level instead of helping her.

"I think I got something," Grace called from the dining room, where she'd set up her laptop.

They all gathered behind Grace's chair to see the image on the screen. Red John's back was to the camera as he entered a code on the alarm keypad. Cho gave a displeased little grunt. "We need to reprogram that tonight."

"He's what, maybe six feet?" Rigsby estimated. "Dark hair, medium build."

"Grey hair," Lisbon corrected. "Dyed. And he wears a wedding ring. And a lot of cologne." She wrinkled her nose and then buried it in the blanket, which she wrapped higher around her neck.

They all looked at her, surprised. "He let you see him?" Grace looked over her shoulder, eyes wide.

"Not his face. He made me close my eyes while he was taking my boots off, but I peeked. He stayed behind me most of the time."

"Why did he take your boots off?" Rigsby asked, perplexed.

Lisbon swallowed, then lifted her head. "I wanted to see how he reacted to being pushed. So I told him to get to the point because my feet were killing me."

There was more to that story, Jane thought, watching her wrap the blanket more tightly around herself. It was obviously a source of comfort for her, which was odd since she rarely used it. Then light dawned. He used it, so it smelled like him. She was seeking comfort in his scent because she wasn't getting it from him.

He handed Ben to Rigsby and moved closer to Lisbon, laying a hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

Jane immediately thrust his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to keep his shock off his face. Lisbon had never flinched from him, not once in all the years they'd known each other. He took half a step back, but she looked at him in apology and moved toward him until their shoulders touched.

Okay, so it wasn't him she had flinched from, but whatever memory his hand on her shoulder had evoked. He suddenly wanted to throw everyone else out so he could coax her into telling him every single touch, every single word Red John had forced her to endure. But he held himself quiet, knowing he wasn't ready. He had to be calm, so he could help her instead of making her feel worse.

Grace was fiddling with the laptop again. "Maybe we got one on his way out."

They all stared intently at the screen, but their only reward was a shot of his back, which added nothing to their knowledge. Still, Jane told himself, this was more than they ever had before. They actually had a physical description now, even if it wasn't enough for positive identification.

"Wait a minute," Grace murmured. "I think..."

She gasped, and they all leaned in as the new image appeared. Red John had paused, apparently to don a pair of thick glasses and a baseball cap before going into the hall. But the camera had caught him in the act, and they had a clear shot of the upper part of his face over his shoulder.

Jane moved closer, noticing the crinkled skin around the man's eye. The bastard was smiling. Pleased with himself. Because he'd terrorized Lisbon.

A red haze passed over his vision, and he pushed away abruptly, storming into the living room to pace back and forth, fists clenched.

"You need to calm down," Cho said, coming into the room behind him.

"I am not going to calm down!" Jane shouted. "He broke into my home and threatened my wife! I am not going to calm down!"

Cho folded his arms. "Okay."

Jane couldn't keep the anguish out of his voice. "He could have killed her while I was right upstairs!"

Cho said, "But he didn't."

Jane dismissed that with an irritated wave of his hand. Cho didn't understand. Only someone who had come home to find his family dead could possibly fathom the horror of it nearly happening a second time.

Cho waited a moment, but when Jane didn't respond, he went back into the dining room.

Jane heard Rigsby say, "It can't be that easy, can it?"

"How is it easy?" Grace replied. "I don't recognize him. Do you? And with only a partial quarter profile, the facial recognition search is just one big guessing game."

"It's more than we've ever had before," Lisbon said, sounding like herself. "We know gender, race, build, and hair color."

"And the cap and glasses he was wearing when he left," Cho added. "We need to get hold of the lobby security camera tapes, see if there's anything else there."

Jane ruthlessly stamped down his fury and frustration and went to stand in the dining room doorway. "He won't have gone out that way. At least not right away. He'd know we had a timeframe for him being here. He either went upstairs to the party or to see his friend in the building. We know he has one."

Lisbon's gaze went from worried to excited. "Yes. He said his friend was making sure you wouldn't interrupt us. It's someone you talked to."

"And who probably tried to delay me," Jane agreed. He frowned, thinking hard. When he looked up again, he realized everyone was looking expectantly at him. "More than one person delayed me once I decided to leave. None of them made me suspicious at the time."

"Probably a woman," Cho said.

"Why?" Rigsby asked.

"He sent a woman last time. And it wouldn't be weird for a woman to chat him up. Women chat him up all the time," Cho pointed out.

"That doesn't narrow it down much. It was mostly women I talked to, though some had men in tow," Jane said. "I'll give it some thought. At least three of them were on Grace's short list. I made a point of being charming to all of them."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, then asked, "Did any of them look like me at all?"

"Not that I—" Jane broke off, struck by sudden realization. "Not physically. She was tall and blonde. But her eyes were green, and her smile reminded me of yours."

"We'll start with her," Lisbon decided.

Jane nodded. "Her name is Elspeth. Elspeth Wagner. Married, no children, two Yorkies. We should get a dog. More reliable than electronics, if trained to be."

Lisbon blinked at him. "We'll talk about it later," she replied, which meant no. But with wiggle room for changing her mind, he suspected.

"Got it," Grace said, typing something into the laptop. "I'll get started tomorrow morning."

"Yes, it's late," Lisbon said, smiling a little as Ben let out a huge yawn. "Great work, everyone, and thanks for coming over."

"I'll get the boots," Cho said. "We'll have to decide which case to tell the lab they're for tomorrow."

"Shouldn't we turn this over to the FBI?" Rigsby asked. "I mean, I thought we weren't investigating Red John anymore."

Lisbon said, "We weren't. But there's no way in hell I'm letting him get away with this. And we can't trust the FBI. So we are going to work this under the table, on a strictly volunteer basis and very, very carefully. Anyone who wants out, there'll be no hard feelings."

Jane let his expression convey that she was speaking only for herself, but he needn't have worried. None of them had ever failed to answer Lisbon's call for volunteers, and none of them was choosing tonight to begin.

"Jane and I will go over everything and let you know if there are any useful clues," Lisbon said.

Grace packed up her laptop and got to her feet. "Do you want one of us to stay?" she asked, clearly volunteering.

"No. He won't be back tonight," Lisbon said. "But thank you."

Jane was very tempted by the thought of a bodyguard for Lisbon, but he knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway, and Lisbon wouldn't open up completely until they were alone.

Cho and Rigsby reset the alarm codes, Cho suggesting they start changing them daily since they didn't know how Red John had gotten the one he used.

"And I'm coming in with my weapon ready from now on," Lisbon grumbled. She'd obviously calmed down enough to begin second-guessing herself, Jane was both relieved and exasperated to see. She looked at him firmly. "And so will you."

Jane nodded. He hadn't taken his gun to the party, but he wouldn't be leaving it behind again. Then a thought occurred to him. "Should we check all the guns?"

Lisbon grimaced, and Jane realized how exhausted she was. Cho said, "I'll do it."

"I can help," Grace volunteered.

"No, you guys go get some sleep. Some of us need to be awake tomorrow," Lisbon said. "Especially you, Grace. Red John can't know we have those photos. You need to be on your toes."

Grace nodded. "I know. Okay, see you tomorrow. Boss, let me know if you need anything."

"Red John's head on a platter," Lisbon muttered.

"You got it," Rigsby said.

mmm

"Can you start in our room? It's under the bed frame," Lisbon asked Cho after Rigsby, Ben, and Van Pelt had left. Jane's head was going to explode if she didn't tell him exactly what had happened pretty soon, but she was going to need privacy for that.

"I'll find them," he assured her. "How many am I looking for?"

"Seven. Plus Jane's. Crap!" She panicked as she realized she wasn't wearing her weapon either. "And mine!"

"Got it," Cho assured her, heading into the hallway.

Lisbon felt around, making sure she still had her badge at least. "My handcuffs?" she asked Jane.

"On the nightstand, with your key," he replied.

They were silent for a moment. Then Jane said softly, "I need to know that you're all right."

She went to him, giving in to the urge to throw herself into his arms. He hesitated, no doubt remembering how she'd reacted when he'd touched her before, then carefully put his hands on her waist. Pressing herself against him and sliding her hands under his jacket, she sighed in relief as his scent and warmth surrounded her, then let out a little hum of contentment when he wrapped his arms all the way around her, holding her tightly. "I'm okay," she whispered. "He didn't hurt me. Just creeped me out."

Jane buried his face in her hair. "He gave you a goddamn hickey."

_That's what he's outraged about? God, how can I tell him the rest?_ But she knew she had to. Unless... "Do you still think we should run? I will, but not if I have to leave you to a horrible padded room. We have to find a way for us to go together."

He rubbed a hand up and down her back. "There's no way to do that without making him suspicious. And then he'll try to smoke us out by killing again, probably one of the people we care about."

"Then we have to catch him," she said, unsurprised.

"Kill him," Jane corrected. "I'm not sitting in a courtroom with him knowing one of his friends is going to help him escape, and then he's coming straight for you." His arms tightened around her. "I was willing to trade my vengeance for your safety, but if that's not on the table anymore, then I will do what I have to."

Lisbon decided she wasn't in the mood to argue her usual point. They could do that later, when they were both calmer and she could think of a better argument against murder than that she had no intention of arranging conjugal visits to him in prison.

Jane took her silence for agreement, apparently, because he didn't press his point. He just held her, though he moved his face out of her hair. She shivered as she wondered if she smelled like Red John.

"Tell me what you need," Jane whispered.

"This," she said immediately. Then she thought about it and sighed. "And a shower. Don't let Cho leave until I'm done, okay?" She kissed his jawline, then reluctantly pulled out of his embrace.

"Okay," Jane said, looking at her tenderly. "We'll both be here when you're done."

It took every ounce of strength she had to walk away from him. But he wasn't going anywhere, she told herself firmly. Even if he wanted to, Cho would make sure of that. And she could lose herself in his arms after she got the damn smell out of her hair that was torturing them both.


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: **I wrestled a bit with this chapter, but in the end, I had to accept that Lisbon is going to do what she wants. So please let me know if you think this is OOC, but really, I had no choice. And I should mention that we get close to M territory toward the end of this chapter, but I couldn't find a good place to mark it off, so I hope nobody is offended. The emphasis is on the talking, not the sex. Thanks to all the reviewers for the last couple of chapters—you keep me going even when this fic gets tough!

**Chapter 35**

Jane followed Cho into the kitchen to point out the gun secured to the underside of the lowest pantry shelf, then began brewing a pot of chamomile tea. "Can I get you anything, Cho?"

"No thanks. I'll wrap this up and get out of your hair," he replied. "You know, this is the world's worst child proofing job. Don't ever let Ben loose in this place."

"Hm. We don't, but that's a good point. I could put one of those doorknob covers on the pantry," Jane mused. And move the other guns up higher, he supposed. Or, better yet, kill Red John and stop living in a goddamned arsenal. "Lisbon wanted to talk to you before you left."

"Okay. That's four, plus Lisbon's. Found it in the nightstand."

"Mine was in the closet, in the shoebox on the shelf," Jane said.

"Go get it and I'll check it out for you."

Jane grinned a little as he realized Cho had no intention of going into the master bedroom while Lisbon was showering. He went into the bedroom, pausing to try the bathroom door. It was locked, which was unusual but not surprising under the circumstances. "You okay in there?" he called. She'd already taken twice as long as normal, after all.

"I'm fine," she called back. "I just can't get the damn stink out of my hair."

It was probably just in her head at this point, he thought, but he knew that didn't make it less of a problem. "Try that mousse you bought." She'd used it once and then put it in the back of the cabinet, complaining about its strong floral scent.

"Okay," she replied, but her tone told him to back off.

Jane retrieved his gun, picked up the big plastic bag containing her boots, and went into the living room, where Cho was feeling around inside the chimney. "Lisbon vetoed that," Jane told him, going to set the boots near the door. "She was afraid I'd forget and turn the fireplace on when she wasn't here, and then she'd come home to find I'd burned the whole building down. There's one under the couch and one in that vase in the corner."

"Thanks. Here, I'll do yours first." Cho took the gun and went to work.

"She'll be fine," Jane said, noticing Cho's glance toward the hallway as the shower stopped.

"Yeah." Cho nodded, focusing on the task at hand as they heard the blow dryer turn on.

He was checking the last gun when Lisbon appeared, hair a little less tamed than usual, wrapped in her wine-colored robe with sweatpants showing beneath it and a white collar peeking out at her neck. Jane deduced from the set of her jaw that she was now dealing with her sense of helplessness with anger. He was probably in for a rocky night.

"Thanks, Cho," she said. "I appreciate the help."

"No problem. Anything else I can do?"

"Not tonight." She managed a smile. "You can come in late tomorrow if you want; I'll cover for you."

He shook his head. "We have to act as normal as possible. But thanks for the offer." He handed her the gun. "Call me if you need anything else."

"We will," Jane assured him. After he closed the door behind Cho, reset the alarm, and threw the deadbolt, he said, "So you wanted him to stay just to keep an eye on me?"

"To make sure you didn't run off and do something crazy." She folded her arms.

"I can assure you I won't be leaving you alone anytime soon," he replied. He looked at her closed, stiff posture, and said, "I made a fresh pot of tea. Come on."

She didn't argue, just followed him into the dining room, where he pulled out a chair for her. "You got the smell out," he remarked.

"I can still smell it," she complained as he went into the kitchen to get the tea tray.

"I know. You probably will for a day or two." He set the tray down in front of her, careful not to step directly behind her. "Do you want us to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Red John had used their bedroom for good reason, he thought angrily. He'd wanted to violate their private space, their sanctuary.

"I'm not going to let that bastard drive us out of our room," she answered. "I don't think I'll sleep much anyway. And you are way too hyped up to sleep either."

Jane poured her a cup of the fragrant tea. "This should help us both calm down." When he'd finished preparing both cups, he sat down beside her. They sipped the tea in silence, until Jane decided he would have to go first. "I came in and called out to you. When you didn't answer, I think my heart stopped. I grabbed the nearest gun and found you slumped in the chair, still handcuffed."

"So you released me and moved me to the bed," she guessed. "Thanks for the blanket."

"You're welcome. I called the others and then you started to wake up."

She nodded. "I never even knew he was here until he put the cloth over my face. I should have swept the room before putting in my code. I know better than to walk into a room and turn my back without checking to make sure it's safe, dammit."

"You should be able to feel safe in your own home," Jane pointed out.

"But we know we're not," she replied. " I was distracted. I won't be again, though."

Jane waited for her to continue, but she frowned into her tea, no doubt picturing what would have happened if she'd seen him first, if she'd had a chance to fight back.

"So you woke up in the chair, already cuffed?" he prompted.

"Yes. My feet too, but he must have brought his own for that. He had two pairs, one for each ankle and chair leg."

"Taking no chances," he murmured. "And he stayed behind you, except for taking your boots off?"

"Yes." She swallowed hard.

"And played with your hair, obviously, to make you uncomfortable." When she nodded, he mused, "I wonder if he put some of his cologne on his hands, to make sure I'd smell him on you."

"Probably." Lisbon's fingers tightened on her teacup. "He talked about hypnotizing me to forget him because it would drive you crazy to find me smelling like another man and denying anyone had been here. But I told him you wouldn't believe I was cheating on you."

"I wouldn't," he assured her. Sheer loyalty would keep her faithful even if she didn't love him anymore, he thought. After another pause, he said, "Tell me about the boots."

She sighed. "That was the creepiest part. I wish I hadn't mentioned that my feet hurt. I think he might have a fetish, because he did everything so slowly, like he was savoring it. And then he...kept touching my feet. And he told me I needed a pedicure."

"Interesting." He saw something else flash across her face. "What else?"

She stared down at her teacup. "He said I shouldn't neglect the details, because...because your first wife was so perfectly groomed."

Jane filed that away to think over when she wasn't darting little glances at him. For now, he focused on the insecurity he heard in her voice. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss into her palm. "I don't care if you never get a pedicure, Teresa. I love every inch of you just the way you are."

She shivered a little. "Can you—can you go back to calling me Lisbon? Just until I stop hearing him saying my name."

"He called you by your first name?" He was proud that he kept his voice even, concealing his dismay at being asked to call his wife by her last name.

"Yes. He called me Mrs. Jane once, but the rest of the time he used my first name." She frowned. "And he pronounced it the way you do."

"Are you telling me I say your name funny?" he asked, smiling a little despite himself.

"I like the way you say it," she said quickly. "But most people say the 's' as an 's' instead of a 'z' like you do."

"So you think he has an otherwise well-concealed accent, or else he's heard me say your name."

She took another sip of tea. "We know he's heard you say my name. He said he'd lost count of how often he's listened to our wedding night."

Jane let go of his teacup, afraid he might shatter it, and moved his hands to his lap where she wouldn't see his fists clench. "And he had notes on my performance, no doubt?"

"On both of us, actually," she said, trying for humor. "He said I come too easily and that it must go to your head."

Jane snorted, reflecting on the forethought and effort he devoted to pleasing her. "He has no idea. Let me have it, Lisbon. It will tell me something about his mindset." And considering that the man had threatened to rape his wife, Jane considered figuring out his mind his top priority.

"Just that you talk too much. And." Lisbon winced a little. "That he could think of better things to do with his lips and tongue."

"Hm. Yes, I can see why that would bother him." Jane felt a feral smile tug at his lips and tried to smooth it out. "He'll never be able to turn you on with his voice the way I do. He can't replicate it."

Lisbon frowned. "That's why he listened to us? Because he wants to, what, learn your tricks in bed?"

"More precisely, he wants to learn what does it for you, my dear." Jane stifled a groan of frustration as she turned away, just for a second. "He called you that too?"

"Yeah." She sought refuge in her teacup, draining it. Jane poured her another cup while he thought. She glanced at him and said, "Thanks. You have a theory, don't you?"

"Working on it," he said. "What else did he say, Lisbon?"

"That I had to have a baby and stop stalling. That he watches you and knows what you're up to. I guess that means he knows how you always manage to have enough condoms when we need them."

"And that's when he said if I didn't father your child, he would?"

She nodded, curling her fingers around the teacup and staring into it. Then she took a deep breath. "And I asked what would happen if I couldn't. He said...he said I'd have to prove I couldn't. He used the word 'barren,' actually, which I thought was kind of weird. It's old-fashioned, but it's not a word you'd use."

Jane nodded. "How would you have to prove it?"

Another shiver ran through her, rattling the teacup slightly. "By spending every night for a year with him and not getting pregnant. Then he said he'd give me back to you, if you still wanted me back."

"You are my wife," Jane said quietly. "I will always want you back." He tapped a finger on the table, thinking hard. "But I'd much prefer not to lose you in the first place, of course. Did he say anything else?"

"Um, he asked me if I was happy. And he said the privileges he granted you were his to revoke, and that you'd had me all to yourself for six months now. And that he couldn't wait until it was his turn."

Jane hummed a little, frowning as he thought. His tea had gone cold, but he drank it anyway.

"Oh," she said, just remembering. "He asked about my freckles, if you ever drew patterns in them. Then he—he put his finger right here and did one, I guess. I couldn't see, I just felt it. It was disgusting, made my skin crawl. And he asked me if I was aroused." She sounded outraged. "As if he thought I actually might be. How crazy is that?"

"Downright delusional," Jane mused.

Lisbon said, "Tell me what you're thinking." She probably meant it to come out as a demand, but there was a definite plea in her eyes.

"I'm thinking," he said slowly, not sure if she was ready for the whole truth, "Red John has absolutely no idea how to woo you, even after watching me do it."

"But why does he want to? He's got all those disciples, right? Beautiful women like Lorelei who're only too happy to sleep with him whenever he wants."

"But they're no challenge."

"So he wants me because I don't want him?"

"He wants to make you want him. Preferably, instead of me." Jane watched her carefully for signs of distress, but all he saw was incredulous disgust.

"Like that's ever going to happen," she scoffed. "Anyway, why? I thought he wanted to use me to make you suffer. But this sounds like something more than that."

"Yes. I think it might be. I might have been wrong about his motives for wanting us together. That, or his motives have evolved as he's watched us, I'm not sure. Killing you would end his fun, but seducing you away from me would be a new game he would enjoy both intellectually and physically. And the fact that he'd have to kidnap you to ever make that happen wouldn't be a deterrent for him." Jane thought for a moment more, then looked closely at Lisbon. She was exhausted, and she'd been through enough, he decided. The rest of his theory could wait. "Let's get some rest. Just tell me if I say something or touch you in a way that makes you uncomfortable."

"I have to get over this," she said, getting to her feet with a stubborn set to her chin.

"You will," he said. "But you don't have to do it in one night, love." He was relieved that endearment didn't cause a reaction, and that she didn't seem to mind when he took her hand.

They went about their routine of checking the locks and getting ready for bed. Lisbon shed her robe and sweatpants, but she kept the shirt Jane had been wearing yesterday as her sleepwear. They slid into each other's arms under the covers, Jane being careful where his hands went. Her shoulders were a problem, and he knew better than to stroke her hair, but he wasn't sure if there were other sensitive areas. "I love you," he whispered.

She burrowed her face into his chest. "I love you. Just you. Until death parts us. Nobody can change that."

"I know," he whispered back. "And nothing he does—nothing—can make me love you any less. Remember that."

"I will," she promised. She was quiet for a while, but she was nowhere near falling asleep, he knew. "What do you think we should do?"

He sighed. "A better man would abstain from sex while we figure out who he is. Obviously he's on to my methods of picking up condoms, and I don't want to give him an excuse to come after you."

"We have something to go on," she mused. "We might be close. It might be okay. I'm not twenty anymore; I probably wouldn't get pregnant right away."

Jane frowned. It wasn't like her to reconsider a decision she'd been so firm about before. "We shouldn't decide anything tonight."

"But I want to." He felt her grimace against his neck, struggling to ask for what she wanted. "I hate that he put his hands on me, that he made me smell like him. That I can't get his damn voice out of my head. I need you to get him out. I know you can do it. You can talk until I forget what he sounded like and touch me until I forget how his hands felt."

Jane felt this would be a bad idea, but he also knew that once Lisbon decided on a course of action it was nearly impossible to change her mind. When he didn't respond right away, she stretched up and nipped his earlobe. "Really?" he asked, letting his surprise show.

"Really," she murmured.

"I don't want him in our bed," he said.

"Neither do I. That's why I want you to get rid of him."

She sounded very matter of fact, but then she wasn't as romantic as he was. And tonight her needs trumped his. "Okay," he said, a little distracted as he thought about how best to do this.

She thumped his shoulder with her sharp little fist. "Don't put yourself out or anything," she grumbled. "If you'd rather work off all that tension pacing and brooding, don't let me stop you."

"No, no," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Just pondering my plan of a—approach." He winced a little at his near-blunder. She'd already been attacked once tonight. He needed to be mindful of that and not go all caveman on her, no matter how strong the impulse was to erase all evidence of the other man's trespass and mark her as his own.

"I'm not an airport," she said in exasperation. "And if you're lying there thinking that you need to treat me like I might break, think again. You've already reassured me; now I need you to blow my mind."

"So no pressure then," he grinned. "Well, I have four condoms left. We need to make them count. Any special requests?"

She took a deep breath. "A foot massage?" She slid her foot up his calf. "They're nice and clean, I promise."

That was his Lisbon—going straight for the heart of the problem. Other people might want to work up to the hard part, but not her. She would tackle it head on. Not for the first time, he was both proud and dismayed.

Well, she had enjoyed the times he'd massaged her feet in the past, and he would be sorry to have that off limits. He would try to reclaim it, and if she was okay with that, he was of course happy to carry his seduction to its conclusion.

"You're awfully quiet," she said, her hands and feet pausing. "Don't you—" she broke off, and he heard her breathing become uneven. "Don't you want me? Is it because he touched me?"

"I will always want you," he promised, kissing her softly on the lips. "I'm just worried you're pushing yourself too hard, and I don't want to be part of anything that hurts or upsets you. Before we try the foot massage, let's see if we can't take care of some of the other places." He moved his hands to her shoulders and slid his fingers gently over them. "He grabbed you, didn't he?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Toward the end, when he started talking about having sex with me. It feels like I might bruise."

"You were afraid he was losing control."

"Yes." Her breath hitched, but her voice was steady. Sometimes he forgot how strong she was, and the rediscovery always staggered him.

"That's when he sucked on your neck?"

"Mm hm." She swallowed as he kissed his way along the side of her neck. It was the wrong side, he knew, but he'd need to reposition her to kiss that damn hickey, and he wasn't sure she was ready for him to push her onto her back and pin her to the bed.

Lisbon solved the problem by pushing him onto his back and sliding on top of him instead. He smiled and let her take charge, knowing that was exactly what she needed. When he'd finished nibbling at her neck, pressing a gentle kiss over the tender area of the hickey, she slid out of bed and went to the closet, finding the pants he'd worn that day and retrieving the condoms.

"When these run out, I guess we can try the rhythm method," she remarked, unbuttoning the shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

"That's what your parents used?" he asked curiously.

"Mm hm." She smiled slyly at him as she straddled him.

"And it worked so well they had four children in what, eight or nine years?"

"Oh, shut up," she sighed. "Wasn't there supposed to be a foot massage on the agenda?"

"There was, but I can't quite reach them from here," he grinned. "We can always eat dessert first, as it were."

"Oh right, because you're so energetic after sex." She rolled her eyes.

Jane decided to take a chance and quickly rolled over, catching her off guard and provoking a little yelp. "Don't underestimate me," he advised, settling himself on top of her.

"You can't reach my feet this way either," she pointed out.

"Oh, yes I can." He reached under her leg and bent it until her knee was nearly level with her ear. They both groaned as his erection rubbed against the moist heat exposed by her new position, and he began massaging the arch of her foot.

"Mm, that feels amazing," she sighed. "Do the other one."

"You're determined to push my self-control to the limit, aren't you?" he said, bending her other leg so he could grasp her foot. He had to release the first one to hold himself up, and she laid it across his back, her heel resting just above the curve of his butt.

He barely held on to his control long enough to sit back and put the condom on, groaning in relief as he thrust inside her. He'd come so close to never having this again, he thought. To losing her. He would do anything to keep her safe, keep her with him.

"Talk to me," she breathed in his ear.

"I love you," he responded, momentarily at a loss for what else to say.

She smiled, leaning up to catch his lips with her own. "That's all you got? What happened to sonnets and obscure poetry?"

Apparently Red John had skipped the poetry recitation for their encounter, he thought. "Is that really what you want, Lisbon? You usually make fun of me when I'm a poetical mood."

She sighed. "I changed my mind. It's stupid for you to call me by my last name when you're inside me."

"As you wish, Teresa," he replied, relieved. "But no poetry tonight. All I can think of is how thankful I am you're alive. And how easily this night might have turned out differently." He abandoned his leisurely pace, savoring her gasp of pleased surprise at the new rhythm. "I can't lose you. You're more important than my next breath, my next heartbeat, my next thought. Because none of that can happen without you. You're not just part of my life. You're the foundation of it, the cornerstone. Without you everything falls apart."

"I know," she whispered. "Do you know, really know, that I feel the same way? God, those months you were in Vegas nearly killed me. You left this huge hole in my life, and I was afraid I'd fall in and never crawl back out."

"I'm sorry," he panted in her ear.

"Never again," she said, framing his face with her hands. "No more running off. I don't care what the reasons are."

He was getting ahead of her, he realized, focusing on getting himself back under control. She was thinking too much, feeling too little. Of course, he might not do her any favors by breaking through the unconscious wall she'd erected around her emotions. It was protecting her from things she wasn't ready to deal with.

"No more running off," he promised. He was going to be too busy watching over her like a hawk anyway. "I couldn't if I wanted to. I could never have done it if we'd been lovers. All those sleepless nights not being able to call you were agonizing enough. I wouldn't have got through even one if I'd known then how it feels to have you wrapped around me. How it feels to be so deep inside you I can't tell where I end and you begin. How that moment right before you come is like standing on the edge of a cliff, tensing my legs to jump into the ocean and lose myself in the crashing waves. And how the way you gasp my name is one of my favorite things in life. God, Teresa, I'd give up anything not to lose this, not to lose you. I'd give up everything. I'd give up _tea_."

Her brilliant smile lasted only a moment before she threw her head back and cried out, her body tensing as she exploded around him. He groaned and gave in to his own release, feeling unaccustomed tears slide out of his tightly closed eyes.

When he opened them again, she was looking up at him in concern, her own eyes wide and wet. "You're crying," she said, her voice hoarse.

"So are you, love. It's all right." He kissed her forehead, then each eyelid, tasting salt.

She pulled him down on top of her, holding him against her with all her stubborn strength. It took several tries for him to roll them to their sides so he wasn't crushing her. Only when she finally surrendered to sleep did her grip slacken, and Jane was finally able to slide out of bed to get rid of the condom, going into the bathroom where the trash can was. His body was relaxed and sated, but he could feel the sting where she'd dug her fingernails into his back, so he took a quick look in the mirror. His back had several rows of neat crescent-shaped marks, some of which had broken the skin, and ten little cuts where she'd dug in and dragged her nails.

He reflected how often pleasure and pain were intertwined in his life. Being with Lisbon was his greatest pleasure—perhaps his only real pleasure—but it went hand in hand with his worst fear, that of losing her. The pain of that would not be survivable.

Crawling back into bed, he settled her in his arms, smiling at her little murmur of contentment. He would savor this moment, not because he would want it to remember her by, but because it was a moment that deserved his full attention. Life contained all too few of those. And however long they had together, he intended to be fully present, fully engaged, because she deserved that from him. He wasn't going to waste time brooding in dark corners or obsessing over evidence. He was going to be with her, looking out for her, letting her know she had his full, undivided attention. She would never again feel that she came second.

And tomorrow he would tell her his theory, because his undivided attention might not be enough to keep her safe.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: **First, apologies for the delay. I've been doing the professional equivalent of climbing the Cliffs of Insanity, and my muse refused to accompany me. We've made up now though I hope! Also, way back in Chapter 6 I declared this story a Volker- and Kirkland-free zone. But then, before the last episode, I decided Kirkland had to exist after all (just not as someone Lisbon was remotely interested in, of course). The bulk of this chapter was written before the last episode, but I just couldn't get it finished in time to impress you all with my prescience. Oh well. Thanks for hanging in there!

**Chapter 36**

The next morning, Lisbon woke to find Jane wrapped around her instead of fixing breakfast. She was touched, but also hungry. At least she could smell that the coffeemaker's timer had done its job, since it wasn't distracted by emotional concerns. "Morning," she grumbled.

"Good morning. We can stop by Marie's on the way to work," Jane said as her stomach growled at him. "We have time, since you don't need to wash your hair again." His nose wrinkled a little as he sniffed it. "I can't say I'm wild about the lilac. It's a little cloying."

"Better than that damn cologne," she replied.

"Indisputably."

She tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but he refused to let go. "If you really want to stop by Marie's, we need to get moving," she reminded him.

He let out a long sigh, then gave her a quick kiss and rolled over to get out of bed.

mmm

They ended up with breakfast and coffee for the whole team, since they'd kept them up late. It was Lisbon's idea, but Jane took it a step further, buying enough pastry to feed the whole floor. As they piled the boxes in the car, she reflected that whatever his faults, he was always generous with her and the others he considered family. There was no doubt in her mind that little Charlotte had wanted for nothing, and she wondered what it would be like to parent with someone who gave so unstintingly.

No doubt she'd end up being the disciplinarian, the no-fun parent, while he would be more of a playmate and source of treats. He'd probably undermine her every chance he got, too, as he frequently did at work. And they'd definitely gang up on her, Jane and his Mini Me. The obnoxious genes were surely dominant ones.

Why did that unattractive thought give her heart a pang?

"If you'd let me drive, you could eat in the car," he offered.

"I'm not going to starve to death between here and the office," she replied.

"No, but you might bite my nose off," he said. "You look like you're thinking about something I've done to annoy you. But I've been boringly well-behaved lately, so I can't think why."

"Just thinking," she said.

"Care to share?"

She started the car. "What, you can't tell?"

"Too many possibilities," he said. "It could be anything from not making your breakfast to comprehensively ruining your life."

"Feeling needy?" she asked, glancing at him. He hadn't bemoaned his effect on her life in a while, probably because on a daily basis, he'd actually improved it over the last few months. She lived in a nicer place, ate more nutritious meals, didn't work all night anymore, and got more sleep. And he made her happy.

"Just pointing out the obvious."

"It's not obvious. Patrick, we've been over this. I was assigned to his case before we even met. Who's to say he wouldn't have targeted me if we hadn't?"

"He wouldn't have become obsessed with you, though," Jane said.

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. Because his obsession with you grew out of his curiosity about me. I think he started to pay attention to you when he realized you were more important to me than he was, despite what I wanted everyone to believe. He must have realized how special you are. And now he's decided he wants that."

She frowned. "But how could he think I would ever feel that way about him? Or does he think he can just hypnotize me into thinking I'm in love with him?"

"No, he'll want to believe he's won you because he's the better man."

"But he's not."

"He undoubtedly thinks he is. He sees himself as a leader, someone who collects broken, discarded, or misguided people and turns their lives around. He even tried to redeem me from my charlatan ways, in his eyes. And as much as it kills me, I can't say he's entirely wrong about that. I think I am a better person, or a slightly less selfish one, anyway."

"That's the person you always were. He didn't make you better. He just made you sadder, less pleased with yourself."

"Less pleased with myself is better."

She sighed. "Stop trying to argue that the sadistic serial killer who tied me up and threatened to rape me is a better man than the one who held me all night so he could wake me up from my nightmares."

Glancing at him, she saw the corner of his mouth turn upward. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Exactly." She couldn't help smirking a little at having won the argument.

When they reached the office, Jane took the pastry boxes, leaving Lisbon to manage the tray with four coffees. He'd passed on getting tea, since he preferred to brew his own whenever possible.

Unusually, they had the elevator to themselves, but Lisbon felt uneasy the moment she stepped into it. It wasn't until she heard Jane take an audible sniff that she realized why.

The elevator reeked of sandalwood cologne.

Her heart began to race. "He's here."

"We don't know that," Jane pointed out. "He could just be messing with us, maybe gave one of his friends a bottle of the stuff. Or gave it to a bunch of his friends, so you can't forget him. I won't be surprised if the elevator at home smells like this in the next couple of days, or if someone at the poker game is wearing it. It's part of the game he's playing. Think about it. Have we ever smelled cologne at one of his crime scenes? No. He's too smart for that. The use of scent last night was deliberate."

Lisbon took a deep breath to calm herself, but the smell spoiled the effect. "Okay. You're right. He's probably just messing with us. And even if he is here, I'll be damned if I let him see me rattled."

"That's my girl," Jane murmured with a faint smile.

She cut her eyes at him but, given how sweet he'd been all night, didn't give into the temptation to kick him in the ankle for calling her a girl.

When the elevator doors opened, they went straight to the bullpen to distribute breakfast. Lisbon noticed that her blinds were drawn even though she hadn't left them that way, but she decided solving that mystery could wait until she'd fed her sleep-deprived team.

Everyone perked up at the sight of the boxes from Marie's and the coffees. Jane handed Rigsby the doughnut box to distract him while Lisbon claimed her bear claw. Cho waited until she'd had a sip of coffee to say, "Stan Moore's here. He wanted to know why we were all at your place last night. I told him Jane called us because he was freaked out about something and to ask you about it."

Lisbon was grateful for Cho's quick thinking. He'd avoided lying to the FBI and left the door open for her to claim it was a false alarm if she chose. "Thanks."

Jane grumbled, "I wouldn't mind them watching us so closely if that actually made us any safer."

Cho ignored him. "He's in your office with some guy from Homeland Security."

Lisbon couldn't have been more surprised if Cho had burst into song. "Homeland Security? Did he say why?"

"No."

Rigsby muttered, "If he told us, he'd have to kill us."

Van Pelt asked, "You okay, Boss?"

"Just fine," Lisbon replied, glancing down at her and summoning a smile. "Thanks to your good work. All of you."

Jane was staring at her office, frowning in thought. Lisbon realized that she needed to get rid of the distraction if she wanted her team to be productive. But when she finished her bear claw and turned to go, Jane followed her, practically walking on her heels.

"Let me handle this," she said, stopping and turning to face him.

"Okay," he replied, but he showed no sign of heading to his couch as she intended.

"Alone." Jane and Homeland Security would be a bad mix, she knew. With his urge to flout authority and mischievous sense of humor, he could end up in Guantanamo Bay before the day was out.

"No." Jane said it like it was a perfectly reasonable response.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"No," he repeated. "Alone is not an option. If you don't want me in there, take Cho or Rigsby or Grace."

"You're being ridiculous. What do you think they could possibly do to me in my own office, with all of you out here?"

"They closed your blinds. You don't find that suspicious?" he retorted.

"They probably just didn't want everybody gawking at a Homeland Security agent," she said, realizing that the rumor mill was going to have a field day with this visit. And she was only making it worse arguing with Jane in the bullpen. He wasn't going to back down, she saw. And letting him tag along was probably better than taking an agent in with her, which would signal to her visitors that she felt the need for reinforcements. "Fine," she said. "But you speak only when spoken to."

He smiled cheekily at her and gestured for her to precede him. She pushed the door open to find Moore and another man seated at the little table. It didn't escape her that their choice of seating made it too awkward for her to sit at her desk, in the position of power. "Good morning, Agent Moore. To what do we owe the pleasure of such an early visit?" She remained standing, but Jane brushed a hand along her back on his way to sit on the couch.

"Agent Lisbon, Mr. Jane, this is Bob Kirkland, Homeland Security," Moore replied, seeming less cheery than normal. Lisbon had been through her share of turf wars, but she wasn't going to waste any sympathy on Moore.

"What can we do for Homeland Security?" she asked Kirkland.

Kirkland gave her a smile she might have found charming under other circumstances. "Agent Lisbon, it's a pleasure to meet you. We've recently taken an interest in the Red John matter, so naturally I wanted to talk to the agent who's spent the most time on the case."

Lisbon didn't know whether to be worried or relieved that Kirkland was ignoring Jane, and she was curious as to why Moore was following his lead. She'd always thought Moore and Jane had a weird rapport. "CBI is always happy to help our federal partners," she said. She could feel Jane smirking but didn't look at him. "But isn't serial murder a little out of your usual interests? I thought you chased terrorists."

"Our investigations often take us in unexpected directions," Kirkland smiled.

Lisbon knew she shouldn't continue to stand, but for some reason she didn't want to take the third seat at the table. So she went to sit beside Jane on the couch, hoping he would behave.

When Kirkland didn't continue, Moore spoke again. "We hear you had an exciting night."

Lisbon had been undecided about telling Moore what happened, but she was not prepared to lie to Homeland Security. Omitting certain details was another matter, though. "Yes. Red John paid me a visit."

Neither man looked surprised. Moore said, "And you weren't hurt?"

"No. He just wanted to make it clear that he was unhappy with me." Lisbon grimaced a little, and Jane slid an arm around her waist. She decided to let him play the overprotective husband, since that's what Red John would expect.

"He threatened her," Jane said, his voice roughened with anger. "Drugged her, tied her up, and threatened her. When I found her I thought she was dead."

There was so much pain in his voice that she didn't have to fake her look of concern. "I'm okay," she said softly, holding his gaze for a moment.

Moore said, "I'm relieved to hear that. What was the threat?"

"To rape me if I didn't get pregnant soon." Lisbon was gratified that she'd managed to make their visitors uncomfortable, but sorry that she upset Jane. His fingers curled around her waist, clutching at her, and he frowned fiercely.

"That's a pretty radical departure for him," Kirkland said. "As far as we know, he hasn't raped anyone since Miranda Roman. And that was to make Lorelei Martins vulnerable to him. What do you think is the purpose behind this threat?"

Jane answered, "It's part of the game he's playing with us. I think he planned for Lisbon to be pregnant in time for the anniversary so he could celebrate it by killing my family again, ten years later."

Lisbon looked at him in surprise. She knew the date of his family's murders, of course, but with everything going on she hadn't thought about it being so soon. She needed to, though, and not just for Jane's sake, apparently.

Moore was nodding thoughtfully, but he looked a little startled when Jane added, "But I think the game has gotten a little out of his control. I think he's watched us so closely for so long that he's fallen in what passes in his mind for love with Lisbon. So killing her isn't in his new plan. He wants to seduce her instead. Mostly for his own pleasure, but also because he knows that would make me suffer almost as much as if he killed her, and for longer."

"Still for the anniversary of your family's deaths?" Moore frowned.

"I doubt even he thinks he can work that quickly. I'm sure he has something in mind for that, but his plan for Lisbon must have a longer timeline."

"Like until hell freezes over," Lisbon muttered.

"Did you get any clues to his identity?" Moore asked.

She shook her head. "He was careful not to let me get a look at him. At least...not that I remember. I guess it's possible he hypnotized me to forget."

"No," Jane said. "You weren't hypnotized. I checked."

"All I remember is how he smelled," she said, shivering a little for effect.

Jane tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Sandalwood. She reeked of it when I found her. Obviously he wanted me to smell it. But we've never found that scent at one of his crime scenes, so I doubt it's something he wears regularly."

Lisbon wondered if she should mention the elevator, but she didn't see how that could possibly help them identify him.

"So," Moore said, "it's not just about seducing Agent Lisbon, but about you knowing he's doing it."

Jane smiled thinly. "Yes. Win-win, from his perspective." He paused, then said, "I'd appreciate it if you could make your surveillance into more of a security measure."

"I would if I could," Moore said. "But surveillance works best when it's invisible. Security works best when it's not. It's a little hard to combine them."

Jane looked at Kirkland. "You probably have resources the CBI can only dream of. Any chance of getting some help?"

"It seems the best way to find Red John is to watch Agent Lisbon," Kirkland said. "I assure you that any of my colleagues would intervene if they perceived her life to be in danger."

Lisbon took a second to admire the artistry of his non-informative response. But before she could reply, he turned to her to ask, "Anyone displaying unusual interest in you lately?"

"Not that I've noticed," she said, glancing at Jane. He would be more likely to have spotted anything like that, she thought.

Jane answered her unspoken question. "No, nothing like that. But then, I don't pay much attention to men trying to flirt with my wife. It's not a concern, since she's not interested."

He was lying through his teeth, Lisbon thought, keeping her expression bland. Just two days ago he'd dealt with a flirting deputy by loudly proclaiming the man had wet the bed as a child and was looking for a mommy figure to take care of him. God knows what else he would have said to the poor man if she hadn't stomped on his foot to shut him up.

Moore smiled as if he read her thought, remarking to Jane, "It must be nice to be so confident in your own appeal."

Jane shrugged. "It's got nothing to do with me. It's Teresa's integrity I'm confident in."

Lisbon enjoyed the compliment even though she knew Jane wouldn't leave any threat to his place in her heart up to her integrity. He'd deal with it ruthlessly and efficiently, probably before she even realized what was going on. But it was true he had nothing to worry about. Jane had crowded other men out of her thoughts for years now, and that showed no signs of changing now that they were married.

"Well," Kirkland said, "if you do notice anyone sniffing around, I trust you'll let us know."

"Of course," Lisbon said. "Are you taking lead on the case, then?"

"No. This is still the FBI's case," he replied. "We're merely observing and assisting."

Lisbon bet the FBI had a different phrase for it, but Moore merely nodded in agreement, then got to his feet as Kirkland did and said, "Glad to see you're okay, Agent Lisbon. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks, Stan," Jane said pleasantly as he and Lisbon stood as well. "Always a pleasure to see you." He shook Moore's hand, then turned to Kirkland. "Nice to meet you, Agent Kirkland."

Kirkland shook Jane's hand with a brief, "Likewise," then turned to Lisbon with a smile. "Hopefully you won't have any more excitement for a while."

"Thanks," she said, shaking his hand politely.

When the visitors were gone, Lisbon turned to Jane, folding her arms. "That guy gave me the creeps."

"Of course he did. Any man you meet today will," Jane said. "That's part of the game, to keep us off balance." He frowned. "But in Kirkland's case, your instincts are spot on. That remark about 'sniffing around,' the way he was looking at you even though you're a married woman who's just had a traumatic experience—all highly suspicious."

Lisbon felt the need to point out, "Or, we're both a little on edge today and he's just a guy doing his job."

"Moore has no reason to be on edge, but he obviously dislikes Kirkland."

"Because he's muscling in on his turf," Lisbon said. She sighed, then said, "I'm afraid I hadn't thought about the anniversary being next week. Should I put in for leave for you? Do you want me to take the day off too, or do you want to be alone?"

Jane shook his head. "That might be a dangerous day for you. I want you surrounded by people with guns who will stop at nothing to protect you. I want us here that day, and I want the others over for dinner that night. And I don't want you alone for a single second at any time until we're safely past the date."

"But I know you normally go to the cemetery," she protested.

He shook his head again. "They're dead. They neither know nor care where I am, that day or any other."

"But you do." She had a bad feeling this wasn't going to be as straightforward as he was claiming.

"Not nearly as much as I care about keeping you safe," he said, holding her gaze.

She sighed a little, knowing he wasn't going to budge. And when he lowered his mouth to hers, she didn't stop him. They both needed the comfort, she reasoned as she slid her fingers into his curls and her tongue along the roof of his mouth.

They were both so lost in the kiss that the knock on the door wasn't enough warning for them to completely separate before Cho opened the door. "We have a case," he said, ignoring the fact that they were both breathing a little hard and she was blushing fiercely.

"Text me the address and we'll meet you there," she managed to say in a mostly normal tone.

"Will do," Cho said, closing the door behind him.

Lisbon was unsurprised to find Jane grinning at her. She rolled her eyes and tried to put his hair back in order, but he caught her hand before she could finish. "No need to be embarrassed. We are married, after all."

"That's not the point," she said, going over to open the blinds. "Ready to go? We can get you some tea afterward."

"Fine," he said.

"And no wandering off," she warned. "Remember what I told you. Don't let yourself become bait."

"Yes, dear," he said with exaggerated patience as he opened the door for her.


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: **As usual, my muse is happy to chatter in my ear while I work 10-hour days, though she's oddly silent during slow times. So I am bursting with ideas and have almost no time to spend at the keyboard working them out. But finally I managed to get a chapter's worth together, so here you go. Thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter—you are amazing motivators!

**Chapter 37**

Three days later, Jane was pretending to be engrossed in a book while plotting how to regain his place on the couch in Lisbon's office, from which she had banished him that morning. He was willing to admit he'd been hovering, but really, what did she expect him to do under the circumstances? And she had a management meeting later this afternoon, so her complaint that she needed a break from him was unreasonable, since there was already one built into her schedule.

Glancing up, he saw Cho emerge from Lisbon's office and head in his direction. Ah, apparently Lisbon had decided that changing couches was an insufficient response to her command to leave her the hell alone for an hour.

"Come on," Cho said, folding his arms as he stood over him.

"Where?" Jane put down his book but refused to move yet.

"To interview the victim's boss again."

Now, that was just unkind, Jane thought. "He hit me last time."

"You deserved it. This time, don't speculate about his sex life," Cho replied. "Lisbon thinks there's something about his story that doesn't add up."

"And she expects me to check her math," Jane finished.

"Nah. She just wants you out of her hair," Cho said. "Let's go."

Jane rolled his eyes, but he saw no reason to further antagonize Lisbon. And she was right about the boss, so he might as well prove it for her. That and a good dinner would probably save him from a night on their living room couch, he calculated. "Very well," he said, getting to his feet.

Riding with Cho was conducive to intensive thinking, and today Jane used the time to come up with a brilliant ruse to make the boss confess, then plan a carefully crafted menu to remind Lisbon that although he might be a pain in the ass at work, he was well worth keeping around at home.

The brilliant ruse worked perfectly, of course; Cho didn't even have to tackle the man to foil his pathetic attempt at escape. Jane was deep in contemplation of where to find the very best strawberries this time of year as they walked back to the SUV with the prisoner when the sound of gunfire startled them all, followed by a woman screaming.

"You stay here," Cho flung over his shoulder at Jane, quickly cuffing the defeated murderer to the door of the SUV before running toward the sounds of a fight.

"Got it," Jane called, looking around before deciding to stay in the shade of a nearby building instead of broiling in the unseasonably strong sunshine with a sobbing killer. There was a slight breeze to make the wait bearable, at least. He resumed his contemplation of tonight's menu while watching a bird chirp its little heart out in a tree across the street, no doubt hoping to please its mate. Jane silently wished it luck, since he was engaged in the same endeavor.

Something poked him sharply in the back, and he just had time to identify it as the muzzle of a gun before a pair of lips brushed his ear.

"Hello, lover," Lorelei whispered.

mmm

Lisbon was late getting back from her meeting, and since she'd skipped lunch, she was getting hungry. When she noticed that Jane wasn't in the bullpen with the others, she hoped he had gone home to start dinner. "What's up?" she asked the team, who were gathered around Van Pelt's desk.

"Jane ditched me," Cho said.

"His cell phone's not on, so I can't track it," Van Pelt added.

Rigsby was shaking his head. "How far could he get on foot? He was nowhere near close enough to walk here. Or your place, for that matter."

Lisbon felt something cold slither down her spine. "What happened?" she demanded of Cho.

"Jane tricked Carpenter into confessing. He's in interrogation right now," Cho said. "On our way to the car we heard gunshots and screaming. I cuffed Carpenter to the SUV and told Jane to stay put, then I went to see if I could break it up. Ended up arresting two men for possession and weapons charges and waiting for the local law enforcement. When I got back to the SUV, Jane was gone. Carpenter said he left with a woman. I've got a sketch artist on the way."

Lisbon frowned, then reached for her phone. She'd turned off the ringer during her meeting, but she hadn't missed any calls from Jane. She'd missed one from Stan Moore, though. Two words into his voicemail, she put it on speakerphone.

"...that Lorelei Martins escaped from prison this morning. I've tried calling Jane but he isn't answering. I'd really like to get both your thoughts on where she might go. Please give me a call when you get this message."

Lisbon swallowed hard, trying to get her brain to produce a thought other than _Oh my God, Lorelei's got Jane. That means Red John has Jane. Oh God._

Cho said, "I'll take Lorelei's picture to show Carpenter."

"I'll put out an alert for Jane," Van Pelt said.

Rigsby asked, "Want me to call Moore, Boss?"

Lisbon nodded, not trusting her voice, and headed for her office. Her team knew what to do, and she needed a moment to compose herself.

Taking a seat at her desk, she mechanically checked her email, then put her face in her hands, fighting back tears. This was her fault. If she'd been a little more patient with him, he'd be here right now, lounging on the couch and trying to coax her into going home early. She shouldn't have sent him out there, no matter how harmless the errand seemed or how capable Cho was.

Van Pelt stuck her head in the door. "I put out the alert. You want to go home, Boss? I can take you."

"No," Lisbon said. She needed to do something to find Jane, not go home and wait to hear whether she was a widow.

Van Pelt took a few steps into the office, hovering awkwardly. "I'll keep trying to trace his phone. And hey, it's just Lorelei. Jane can handle her."

"But he won't, not if he thinks she'll take him to Red John," Lisbon replied, unable to keep the misery out of her voice. If Jane thought he had a chance to buy her safety and get his vengeance, he wouldn't count the cost. Even if it was his own life.

"He'll find some way to get word to us," Van Pelt said, with as much hope as confidence.

"I hope so," Lisbon whispered. Then she took a deep breath. "The FBI will be looking for Lorelei. If they ask us for help, we'll give it to them."

"The marshals are looking too," Van Pelt said. "There's a huge manhunt in progress. Homeland Security's involved too."

Cho returned. "It was definitely Lorelei. Carpenter wants to cut some kind of deal for exactly what he saw, though."

"I have to call Bertram," Lisbon realized.

Rigsby joined them. "Moore's on his way over. He says not to worry; Jane doesn't exactly blend in, so if he's with Lorelei that gives them a better chance of finding them."

Cho said, "I'll call Bertram. Boss, you can't run this. You're the wife of the victim."

"I'm not going to go home and climb the walls," she warned him.

"I'm not telling you to go home. But you can't take lead on this, and you know it."

"I know. This one's yours," she said, nearly choking on the words.

"Missing Persons is going to want it," Rigsby pointed out. "If the FBI doesn't shut us all out."

"We're not going to let them," Cho replied. "We're going to find Jane no matter what anybody says about it. Got it?"

"Got it," Rigsby and Van Pelt chorused.

"Lorelei just got out of prison. She probably needs money. Put a flag on Jane's bank account," Cho told Van Pelt.

"I can do that. I'll call the bank. I have the account numbers," Lisbon volunteered, glad to have something to do. "And his credit card."

"Good," Cho nodded.

"If Red John broke her out of prison, he probably gave her some money," Rigsby said.

"Call the marshals, ask to be kept in the loop on their escape investigation," Cho instructed. "Van Pelt, look at that firm that bought Jane's house and see if you can find any recent financial transactions."

"Right." Van Pelt hurried back to her computer, with Rigsby right behind her.

Cho addressed Lisbon. "One of us will stay with you at all times."

"Fine," she answered, knowing it was useless to argue.

Cho let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Boss. I was supposed to be watching him, and I let you down."

She shook her head. "You did your job. You couldn't ignore gunshots. Let's just find him." She reached for the phone. "I'll flag his accounts and then I'll go talk to Carpenter."

"I'll see if Bertram will go for a deal," Cho said, then headed back toward the bullpen.

mmm

Lisbon was just getting up to go talk to Carpenter when Moore arrived, looking stressed. "Agent Lisbon, I'm sorry to hear that Jane's mixed up in this. Why do you think she went for him?"

"On Red John's orders, obviously," Lisbon replied, barely holding on to her patience.

"You think?" He looked surprised. "We all thought he was after you."

Lisbon forced her fists to unclench. "If he's got Jane, he might just as well have me."

Moore thought about it for a moment. Lisbon cut him off before he could say anything, though. "I'm going to talk to the suspect who saw Jane leave with Lorelei. Want to sit in?"

"Yes, thanks." He tagged along behind her as she strode toward the interrogation room.

Carpenter had the gall to smile at her as she entered the room. She scowled in response, but it didn't deter him from saying, "You got me a deal?"

Lisbon didn't bother to sit, folding her arms. "I got a deal for you all right. You tell me exactly what happened to Jane, and I don't add accessory to kidnapping charges to the ones you're already facing."

"I was handcuffed to a car," Carpenter protested. "How could I be an accessory to anything?"

"You tell me," she retorted. "Had you ever seen Lorelei Martins before? Don't bother to lie; we're going over your life with a fine tooth comb. If there's a connection, we'll find it."

"I never saw her before. I didn't even know her name until Agent Cho told me."

"You sure about that?" Moore asked.

"And who are you now?"

"Agent Stan Moore. FBI." Moore took a seat, smiling.

"What's the FBI got to do with this?"

Moore said casually, "Lorelei Martins is a known associate of the serial killer Red John. So now we're wondering if you two are working together. Or maybe she's working for you."

Carpenter gaped at him. "What?"

"Mr. Carpenter, where were you on the night of November second?"

"How the hell should I remember that?"

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Moore asked, still in his nonchalant tone.

"Oh no, I'm not falling for a trick again!"

"Do you like to cut people up and watch them bleed?"

Lisbon watched Carpenter gape at Moore and was reminded of Jane's interrogation technique. She suddenly missed him so much she couldn't breathe. What if they'd already had their last case together? Their last night together? Their last kiss?

She took a deep breath and pulled herself together in time to hear Carpenter shout, "I never saw her before! But your guy, that asshole, he knew her. She came up behind him and kissed him, and he just turned around and walked away with her."

Lisbon frowned. "You didn't see a weapon?"

"No. He just went with her." Carpenter suddenly looked eager. "Hey, maybe he's this killer you're looking for. And—and he's the one who killed Susan, and tried to make it look like I did it!"

"Nice try," Lisbon said. "He didn't say anything to you?"

"No. He acted like I wasn't there."

Moore said, "He never asked for help or looked distressed?"

"No. He just turned around and walked away."

"Thank you." Moore got back to his feet. "Anything else, Agent Lisbon?"

"No," Lisbon said.

They headed for the door. "Hey!" Carpenter yelled after them. "What about my deal?"

"Nice work," Lisbon murmured to Moore as they went down the hall to her office.

"Thank you. But we have a new problem."

Lisbon steeled herself, pushing the door to her office open as Cho caught up to them.

"Nice work," Cho remarked. "So. You think Jane went willingly?"

"That puts a whole new complexion on things," Moore frowned. "It makes him an accomplice rather than a victim."

"No," Lisbon said, leading the way into her office and taking her seat. Cho and Moore settled in the guest chairs. "He didn't go looking for her. She could have had a weapon Carpenter didn't see."

"But Jane showed no sign of duress," Moore pointed out.

"He wouldn't," Cho said. "Doesn't mean he went willingly. He was worried about Lisbon. The anniversary is only two days away. He wouldn't have run off, not now."

"Not even if he thought he could get to Red John through Lorelei?" Moore said. "Because he's got a history of taking risks like that."

"If he did, it was a spur of the moment decision," Lisbon said firmly. "I can usually tell when he's up to something, and he wasn't. If I hadn't sent him out, he'd still be parked on that couch right there."

Cho added, "Yeah. And he was too quiet on the drive to be up to something. If he's plotting, he tries to keep you from noticing. But he was thinking hard about something."

"And what did you think that was?" Moore asked.

Cho shrugged. "I figured he was coming up with a way to get out of the doghouse. Menu planning."

Moore looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Lisbon doesn't wear much jewelry and she hates having flowers sent to the office, so when Jane's in trouble, he cooks."

Lisbon nodded. "It's true."

"What was he in trouble for?" Moore asked.

"Hovering," Cho said, just as Lisbon answered, "Being an overprotective pain in the ass."

Moore smiled a little. Then he said, "Well, for now I'll accept that Jane was taken under duress. But given how good he is at manipulating people, I still think he might have some say in their destination."

Lisbon shook her head. "The only place Jane would be interested in going with Lorelei is to find Red John."

"Okay. But if you think of anything, or if he makes contact, please let me know." Moore got to his feet.

"Of course," Lisbon said.

mmm

The rest of the day dragged into night, and Lisbon was thinking she would have to let Van Pelt take her home so her team would get some rest when someone knocked on her office door. "Agent Kirkland," she said in surprise.

"Agent Lisbon," he said, smiling briefly. "Any word on Mr. Jane?"

"He made a withdrawal at an ATM in San Francisco an hour ago," Lisbon replied. "Or at least, someone did. We're still waiting on the security video."

"Then you should be very glad to see me, because I have it," Kirkland said, taking a seat across the desk from her and pulling out his phone.

"Really?" Lisbon could hardly keep herself from snatching the phone out of his hand, waiting impatiently for him to pass it across the desk.

Kirkland hesitated, giving her a look of concern that made her want to kick him. "Would you like to call your team in so you don't have to watch it twice?"

Lisbon looked out toward the bullpen, where Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt were standing in a group near Rigsby's desk looking toward her. She raised a hand and waved them in. "Agent Kirkland has brought us the ATM video," she said when they entered.

"Let's see it," Cho said, holding out his hand.

Now Lisbon's ire was directed at her second, but she knew that as the person in charge of investigating Jane's kidnapping, he was well within his rights. He could even insist she not see the video until he did, but he had too much sense of self-preservation for that. So she stood and joined the team in a huddle around Kirkland's phone.

The security video from that ATM was poor quality, but they had no trouble identifying Jane as he frowned at the machine. He rarely used them, and always complained about them when he did, she reflected.

"He keeps glancing off to the side. Lorelei must be there," Rigsby pointed out.

"Wait for it," Kirkland said.

A moment later, a feminine hand appeared on Jane's shoulder, and he looked at his companion, then shifted over a step so she could stand in front of the machine and press a button. Then Lorelei said something, smiling, and moved her hand to his cheek, holding him still for a kiss. It wasn't a mere peck, either, Lisbon couldn't help but notice as her stomach roiled.

Kirkland said, "That doesn't look like a typical kidnapper/victim dynamic to me."

Lisbon's mouth was too dry to reply, but Cho said, "Jane isn't a typical kidnap victim. He's playing her, waiting for his chance."

"To do what? Escape?" Kirkland shook his head. "This was on a public street at rush hour. All he had to do was make a scene. Which, from what I've heard, he's perfectly capable of. Anyway, the most damning part is coming up."

They were all focused on the screen when the kiss finished and Lorelei moved out of camera range. Jane hesitated, then looked straight at the camera and mouthed, "Sorry."

That was meant for her, she knew. Jane would have known she'd check the bank accounts and find this. But what was he sorry for? The kiss? Leaving? Making her worry herself sick?

"Agent Lisbon?" Kirkland prompted, concern shading his tone. "You know him better than anyone. What do you make of this?"

She swallowed hard, buying herself time by going back to her chair before responding. "I agree with Cho. He's playing along, hoping she'll take him to Red John." She kept her growing fury under wraps. This re-emergence of the reckless obsessive in Jane was utterly unwelcome to her. He'd seemed to change once he was forced to renounce his quest, but it seemed the change had only been temporary. Or possibly even just another con.

Oh God. What if the whole thing had been one long con? He had successfully pretended to be a despairing drunk for six long months, and they'd been together only slightly longer than that. What if she'd seen what she wanted to see, and all those loving gestures, all their time together, had just been a means to an end for him?

No. She couldn't think like that, not here and now with Kirkland watching her every move. She was grateful when Van Pelt said, "He knew we'd see this. Of course he had to apologize to the boss for kissing another woman."

"So," Kirkland said, leaning back in his chair after reclaiming his phone, "you're saying Lorelei kidnapped Jane, and he decided to play along until she hands him over to Red John? And that he made some excuse to stop at an ATM so he could leave you this message?"

"At least we know he's alive," Rigsby said. "And it wouldn't be the first time Jane did something the rest of us thought was crazy. Especially when it comes to Red John."

Cho was watching Kirkland. "You have another theory?" he asked.

"Let me tell you how it looks to us," Kirkland said. "We know Jane and Lorelei had a sexual relationship."

"A one night stand," Lisbon corrected firmly.

"A sexual relationship. Duration isn't necessarily important," Kirkland insisted. "Especially given his obsession with interrogating her after you arrested her. And the lengths he went to keep her in CBI custody. I'm told his behavior when the FBI took her was distraught. Obviously he had feelings for her. Is it so impossible to believe that he arranged her escape from prison and they planned this together?"

Cho said, "Jane doesn't have the resources to break someone out of a maximum security prison. Red John does."

"That's opinion, with no evidence to back it," Kirkland said. "We have records of Jane attempting to see Lorelei in prison and of him questioning prison transport drivers. What if he found a way?"

Lisbon said, "Jane's been with me nearly every minute for the last few days. He couldn't possibly do something like this without me knowing."

"Not in person, no. But he's perfectly capable of manipulating other people into doing his dirty work."

"Look," Lisbon said, pasting a smile on her face as if she were amused by the absurdity of the thought, "my husband did not leave me for Lorelei Martins."

"No he didn't," Cho agreed. "Jane's a victim, not an accomplice."

"Look. I know he's been with you a long time, and naturally you're going to protect him. I get that," Kirkland said, standing. "But if you look at this objectively, I think you'll see why we aren't treating this as a kidnapping. And why you need to contact me immediately if Jane contacts any of you."

Cho said, "I thought Red John was Moore's case."

"It is. But a breakout from federal prison is a security matter. My department has a vested interest in finding out how Jane did it."

"He didn't," Lisbon replied.

"I hope not," Kirkland said, nodding to them all and then leaving.

"Idiot," Cho remarked in disgust. "I'm going to call Stan Moore and make sure the FBI hasn't bought into this ridiculous theory."

"Thank you," Lisbon said.

"Meanwhile, go home," Cho said. "We know he's alive, well, and working a play. We all need a good night's sleep before he brings us into it."

Lisbon nodded reluctantly, then got to her feet. "We want to get our own copy of that footage," she said. She didn't add _in case what we saw was edited,_ but she knew the team heard it anyway.

"I'll take you," Van Pelt offered.

"Thanks. To all of you," Lisbon replied.

"Hang in there, Boss," Rigsby said, then went back to his desk.

"I'll call if anything turns up," Cho promised. "Try to rest."

"And I'll let you know if I hear from him," Lisbon said, thought her statement didn't quite make it to the level of a promise. If Jane asked her to back his play in secret, she probably would, and they all knew it. "Good night."

She and Van Pelt gathered their things and headed for the elevator in silence. Once they were safely inside, Van Pelt said, "You're right, you know. He didn't leave you for Lorelei. No way."

"I know." But while Lisbon was confident Jane wouldn't leave her for another woman, she was by no means sure he wouldn't leave her for Red John. After all, he'd married her for the killer, hadn't he? And he'd said it himself: if the deal he'd made for her safety was no longer on the table, then he wanted his vengeance. He hadn't said he'd sacrifice their marriage to get it, but perhaps that went without saying if things were going to revert to the way they'd been before. He'd always said he'd do anything to get Red John, after all. That promise was much older than the one he'd made to her on that beach.

She followed Van Pelt out to her car with a heavy heart. She didn't think she would get much sleep tonight.

mmm

The apartment was untouched, and when Van Pelt checked the camera she found nothing more recent than Jane and Lisbon leaving that morning. "That's good," Van Pelt remarked when she reported her findings. "If he was going to run off, wouldn't he come back for a few things? He doesn't even have his go bag." They'd checked; it was still in the trunk of his car at the CBI.

"I'm not sure that will convince Kirkland," Lisbon said. "But we're still not telling anyone about the camera. In the morning I'll tell Moore I looked through his things and they were all here."

"I'll take the couch, where I can hear if anyone comes in," Van Pelt volunteered.

"It's comfortable enough to sleep on. Jane made sure of that," Lisbon said, hoping her smile covered the fierce ache in her heart as she remembered how he'd sprawled on it to demonstrate, then convinced her to join him for a lovely half hour of not-sleeping. Surely he hadn't faked that?

No. He cared about her. That had been obvious for years, since he'd killed Hardy. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't have been pretending to feel more than he did, especially given how clingy she'd been after her first encounter with Red John. He'd admitted to being worried about her state of mind, so he might have started off trying to protect her. And he'd definitely enjoyed the domestic life they'd built, she thought. Between those two things, pretending to be madly in love with her would not have been difficult, even for a less talented showman.

"Boss?"

Lisbon blinked, realizing Van Pelt was looking at her worriedly. "I'm fine, Grace. I'm just tired and worried."

"He'll be back," Van Pelt said confidently. "This is Jane we're talking about."

"Yeah. Feel free to use the bathroom in the hall. Good night." Lisbon tried to summon a smile, then headed for the master bedroom to get ready for bed. She was exhausted, she realized when she finally brought herself to crawl into bed.

Jane's pillow smelled like him, and she pulled it into her arms, praying he'd be back before the scent had a chance to fade.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all the awesome reviewers, and thanks especially to those of you who've told me how much you look forward to updates of this story. I promise I'm not trying to torture you with slow updates! I actually held this chapter a few days until I was sure I was going to get through the next one in a reasonable time frame. So thanks for sticking with me!

**Chapter 38**

Jane woke with an unaccustomed haze smothering his thoughts, but his physical senses seemed to be working just fine as he slowly worked his way back to consciousness. "Mm," he hummed, "have I mentioned lately how much I love your sneaky little fingers?"

The chuckle in his ear was wrong, he thought, but he couldn't identify why. "Teresa?" he murmured, trying to force his eyes open.

"Guess again," Lorelei purred.

He tried to jerk away from her, but his body only managed a violent twitch instead of actual movement. "What?" was all he managed to say as he got his eyes open and saw Lorelei's face unexpectedly close to his.

"Good morning, lover," she smiled. "From the feel of things, this could be a very good morning for both of us."

"I'm married," he replied, forcing his brain to focus on controlling his body's reaction to her touch. Whatever drug she'd obviously given him made it difficult.

"So? I had you first." But she withdrew her hand, propping herself up on one elbow and giving him a good look at her breasts.

He averted his gaze. "And she gets me last. I'm not interested, Lorelei." Realizing how harsh that sounded, considering he was supposed to be winning her over, he added, "I'm not free to be interested now."

"Well," she said, "if that's the way you want it. We can talk again when you're not married anymore."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid, Patrick. I know your Agent Lisbon hates me. So how is she going to feel when she realizes you've run off with me?"

_Worried. Jealous. Mad as hell_, Jane thought. It was a potent mix, and he hoped the rest of the team had the good sense to keep their heads down and, above all, not leave her alone for one second. "Not happy," he replied. "One or both of us might end up with a bullet as a souvenir."

Lorelei smirked. "I'm not planning to give her the chance. Anyway, you're the cheating scumbag, not me."

"I'm no such thing," he protested.

"Not yet, maybe. But from what I saw of her, I bet she's not the type to forgive and forget. Her narrow definition of love won't allow her to accept our relationship."

_Not the type to forgive? You haven't been paying attention,_ Jane thought. How many times had Lisbon forgiven him for lying to her and tricking her? Even he had lost count. If he couldn't avoid sex with Lorelei, that would be a pretty bitter pill for her to swallow, but she would try. That didn't absolve him of the need to do his best to avoid that, though.

But it was not in his interest to point out flaws in Lorelei's plan. He simply hoped that Red John was making the same mistake, though he doubted it. Which was an interesting indicator that Red John hadn't told his disciple the truth about his plans, whatever it was.

He scrubbed his face with his left hand, then noticed an alarming absence. "Where's my ring?"

"Don't you remember?" Lorelei asked with patently false concern. "Oh well. I guess you were pretty out of it last night. Don't worry. It's somewhere safe."

"Where?" he demanded, though he had a sinking feeling he knew. If this had all been orchestrated to present Lisbon with a cheating husband, he was more than ninety percent sure it would end up back in her hands as evidence.

Lorelei didn't answer, throwing the sheet back and climbing out of bed, swaying her hips as she walked and obviously expecting him to admire her naked backside. He had no trouble resisting the urge, thinking instead about how worried Lisbon must be. He could only hope she remembered what he had told her: Red John wanted her to think he was the better man. As long as she kept that in mind, she would know this was all a trick. It wouldn't lessen her concern, but it would spare her any anguish about the status of their relationship.

"Eggs?" Lorelei called from the kitchen.

"Sounds good," he called back, easing himself out of bed. He was glad to find he was steady on his feet and still wearing his boxers. Looking around, he located the rest of his clothes thrown haphazardly on a nearby chair and quickly dressed before going into the kitchen. "Where are we?" he asked, concealing how disturbed he was to have to ask.

"A friend's place," Lorelei replied. "That's all I can tell you."

"So. When do we go see Red John?" He sat down at the table, grateful she had put on a tank top and shorts to cook.

"When he wants us to. Don't worry. I'm sure it won't be long. He's delighted you've accepted his invitation." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Meanwhile, I'm sure we can find stuff to do, just you and me. We had fun in Vegas, didn't we?"

"We had the quintessential Vegas encounter, in which we both lied to each other throughout," Jane said. "But at least you didn't drug me then. Could we skip that for the rest of the trip? I mean, I'm impressed you managed it while I was on my guard, but the after effects are highly unpleasant."

"I couldn't have you sneaking off to call your wife while I was asleep."

"You could just handcuff me to something." When her eyes lit up, he realized he'd made a mistake, so he hurried to add, "Anyway, you're giving me what I want. Why would I do anything to interfere with that?"

"You're a tricky one," Lorelei remarked as she set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. "I was told not to take chances." She settled in the chair next to him, resting her chin on her fist. "You're really whipped, you know. You kept apologizing to her, mumbling and muttering until I wanted to shove a pillow over your head."

"Sorry. Maybe you should find another drug that doesn't make me talk in my sleep. I don't normally, you know."

"I'll look into it," Lorelei said.

Jane put a forkful of eggs in his mouth, trying not to remember the last time she'd cooked for him. Obviously she was trying to evoke that memory, but it wasn't one he wanted to relive. It had been wretched enough when his guilt was about his dead wife, who couldn't be hurt, but it was absolutely excruciating knowing that Lisbon would find out about this one way or another.

_Don't get pulled into her game_, she'd told him last time he'd tried to play Lorelei, expressing her concern despite his attempt to deflect her with mockery. And she hadn't believed him when he'd told her he had no feelings for Lorelei. But surely by now Lisbon was confident in his love.

Unless, of course, one of Red John's friends was whispering poisonous little doubts into her ear. Which he had no doubt was happening. It might even be the man himself, taking the opportunity to get close to Lisbon at a vulnerable moment. The thought made his blood run cold. He needed to get Red John's focus on himself and off Lisbon. Now.

Pushing the plate away, he said, "My stomach's a little queasy. It must be whatever you gave me. I hope we won't have to wait long if you're planning to keep drugging me."

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Lorelei said. She took the plate and ate a bite of the eggs, which answered his question about whether she'd laced them with anything. "The first thing you have to learn is that you don't control everything. Or even anything. He decides when to see you. Accept that."

"I do," Jane replied, but he was confident that Red John would send for him tomorrow, because that was the anniversary. He was almost certainly planning to either convert or kill him to mark the occasion. But Jane was determined to complete his decade-long mission instead. It would be a much more fitting way to spend the day than his past observances.

Lisbon wouldn't agree, though. He felt guilty about that, because she certainly deserved better than what she was likely to get. Although he intended to do his very best to get back to her, he'd been taken by surprise, and he was going to have to improvise against Red John and his well-laid plans. His odds of both killing Red John and surviving were low. He needed to take advantage of all his opportunities, no matter how long the odds.

"So," Jane remarked, "now that you're free, do you plan to avenge your sister's murder?"

Lorelei put down her fork and looked at him. "Once I find out who killed her, yes."

"You know who killed her. She left that message for you: Roy. You know any other men named Roy?"

"No. But how do I know that photo Agent Moore showed me was real?" She shrugged. "He's like you. He'd do anything to get to Red John. It's a trick."

"I assure you it's not. The FBI is tediously unimaginative when it comes to that sort of thing." Jane decided he was hungry after all and reclaimed the plate of eggs. "Isn't that how he does it? Kills someone close to you and swoops in while you're swimming in a sea of grief and despair?"

"Losing my sister brought me into my full reality. I faced my greatest fear," she said. "He helped me see that. But he didn't kill her. You'll never make me believe he did."

Jane shrugged, scooping up a forkful of eggs. "I could get you the original police file."

"You mean you could ask your wife to get it," she retorted. "And I don't trust her either. Give it up, Patrick." She went back to the stove and began making more eggs. "You want some toast?"

"Got any marmalade?"

She looked in the cupboards, which Jane noted were well stocked. "No. There's butter though."

"No thanks. I'd love some more tea, though." He drained the cup in front of him. It tasted dreadful, but he needed the help clearing his head. "So what's the plan, Lorelei? Just sit here and stare at each other all day?"

She shot him a sly smile over her shoulder. "I was hoping for something a little more interesting. But if you're not up for that, we could always hit the beach."

"The beach sounds lovely," Jane said. Anything was better than being cooped up alone together.

"We'll have to make some changes. Why don't you go pick out your new hair color? There's some in the bathroom."

Jane wrinkled his nose at the thought of dyeing his hair, but he finished his eggs and went down the hall. The bathroom was a good idea, he reflected, taking care of business and splashing water on his face before examining the boxes on the shelf over the toilet.

"The honey blonde is mine," Lorelei called.

"Is this necessary?" Jane let his voice go plaintive, picking up a box and squinting at the directions. "Can't I just wear a hat?"

"No," she said, coming down the hall. "Every cop in California will be looking for you. I think you'd make a good redhead. It'll bring out your eyes. And there's a change of clothes in the cupboard." She folded her arms and leaned against the door jamb, smirking. "I can't wait to see your cute ass in tight jeans."

Jane reached for the door and closed it firmly as she stepped back, laughing at him. He grimaced, but resigned himself to a dye job. The least he could do, he thought, was pick out a color Lisbon wouldn't hate. Not red, he decided, glancing at the faded jeans and white T-shirt in the cupboard. Chestnut brown, maybe.

He looked at himself in the mirror with a sigh, running a hand through his blond curls in farewell.

"Need some help in there?" Lorelei asked.

Jane looked at the box again and weighed his options. "Actually, yes," he admitted. "Let me get changed and you can get started."

mmm

Lisbon had managed to get a little sleep, and she made an effort to cook breakfast for Van Pelt out of gratitude for her support. They were still the first ones in the office, and there was no word from Jane. Even though she'd told herself not to hope, she was still disappointed to find no message, no matter how odd or oblique.

Fortunately there was plenty of paperwork to be done, and she threw herself into it with fierce concentration, only looking up to acknowledge Rigsby and Cho when they came in. It was nearly lunchtime when a knock on her door startled her. "Sir," she said in surprise as Bertram entered.

"Lisbon. Any word from Jane?" He looked concerned, but he made no move to sit.

"Not yet," she said. "But I'm sure we'll hear something soon."

"I hope so." He frowned. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." She said it firmly, making sure to hold eye contact. If he sent her home, she'd go stir crazy. She had to convince him she was fit to work. After all, she was.

"Good, good." Bertram looked away for a moment, then said, "Homeland Security is leading the search for Lorelei Martins. They've notified me that they consider Jane her accomplice, not her captive."

"That's ridiculous," Lisbon protested. "Jane had nothing to do with her escape. He was right here when it happened."

"That doesn't prove he didn't orchestrate it," Bertram pointed out.

"Sir, you can't honestly think—"

He held up a hand. "What I think," he said, "is that having an employee under my direct supervision being accused of helping a serial killer's known associate escape is very, very bad for the CBI. That's what I think."

"We'll prove Jane is innocent," she said.

"No, you won't. You are not in a position to prove anything," he snapped. "What I need you to do, Agent Lisbon, is cooperate fully with Homeland and the FBI in their investigation, and stay out of their way otherwise. You and your team will refrain from investigating anything to do with Red John, including Lorelei Martins and Jane's role, if any, in her escape. Remember the deal you and Jane made? I'm holding you to it."

"Yes, sir," Lisbon said, trying to hold on to her temper.

"And if you hear from him, you will notify me as his supervisor and Agents Kirkland and Moore immediately. Failure to do so will have swift and severe consequences."

"I understand."

"I hope you do, Agent." Bertram turned to go, then paused. "I hope you're right about Jane. Because if you're not, we have a very big problem."

"Jane had nothing to do with breaking Lorelei Martins out of prison," Lisbon said. She was grateful not to have to lie about this, but she knew Bertram didn't believe her anyway.

"You'd say that regardless, wouldn't you?" Bertram said, shaking his head. "You've covered for him over and over again. And now you're married, so no one is going to take your word for his innocence. You're in this up to your neck, Lisbon, and make no mistake: if Jane goes down, I'm not the one who's going down with him."

Lisbon kept her mouth firmly shut. Anything she said would just make this worse, she knew.

Bertram heaved a sigh, then said in a more friendly tone, "On a personal level, I hope you get him back. Just...try not to destroy the CBI's reputation doing it."

"I'll do my best," she promised.

Less than a minute after Bertram was gone, Cho came in. "What was that?"

"We're not to work anything even remotely connected to Red John, including looking for Jane," she said. "He's holding me to the deal Jane and I made when we gave the case up. If he catches me working on anything to do with it, I'm out of the CBI."

Cho folded his arms. "Then we won't get caught."

She started to tell him to leave things alone and preserve his own career, but one look at his expression told her it would be useless. "Thank you," she said softly.

"We'll get him back, Boss," he said. "We know he didn't break out Lorelei Martins. He didn't have the time. He was always with you or one of us. There won't be any evidence against him."

"Except manufactured evidence."

"Jane's taught us a thing or two about that," Cho pointed out, sounding almost amused.

Lisbon looked down at her desk, smiling wistfully. "Yeah. I guess he has. Thanks, Cho."

mmm

Jane convinced Lorelei to stay on the beach to watch the sunset. He was in no hurry to get back to the house, and he thought he'd have a better chance to remain un-drugged if they ate at a restaurant. He also had some idea he might lift a cellphone on his way to a restroom and get a message to Lisbon.

Lorelei shot down his idea, though, saying there was plenty of food at the house, so Jane had to content himself with doing the cooking. He wouldn't have the opportunity to lift Lorelei's cell, he guessed, and that would give Lisbon far too much information anyway. He only wanted to reassure her; he didn't want to be rescued before he achieved his objective.

He found that he wanted very much to leave her some sort of good-bye, though. He wondered what his odds were of concealing a note if Red John managed to kill him. It felt wrong to leave her with no word, especially given their last conversation. He didn't want her to torture herself for the rest of her life, wondering if she could have prevented this. And he wanted to remind her to be on her guard, because he wasn't the only one Red John was playing games with now.

Jane refused Lorelei's offer to make him a cup of tea after dinner, but he did it with a smile. "Do you have any books lying around? Or Sudoku puzzles? I'd like to unwind a bit. It will help me sleep."

"So domestic," she grinned. "Is that what you and Agent Lisbon do when you go to bed? Read?"

There was absolutely no way he was going to discuss his personal life with Lorelei. "I could sleep in a separate room tonight so I don't disturb you."

"Please, Patrick. Let's not play dumb with each other. You and I both know why he sent me to you again. You don't get to see him until you've broken your wedding vows." She shook her head at him. "What does it matter anyway? You married her because you had no choice. It's not like it was real."

He frowned, wondering how to best lull her suspicions.

"Oh." Lorelei smiled. "So I was right. You were a little bit in love with her."

He gave the same part laugh, part harrumph he'd given when she'd said that to him in the interrogation room. "You were wrong. I was hopelessly in love with her."

"Was?" she purred.

"Was."

"And now?"

He gave her a half-grin. "Now it's no longer hopeless."

"Because she loves you back? Oh, Patrick. It's all an illusion. A gift he gave you." Lorelei shook her head. "He made her believe she loved you. Just like he'll make her believe she loves him, when he decides to."

Jane had a sudden, searing flash of memory: Lisbon gasping "I love you" into his ear as he moved inside her, pushing them both over the edge into ecstasy. But that wasn't what he held onto as proof. It was the look in her eyes when she said her wedding vows—the same look she'd given him in intense moments for years. No, her love was not of Red John's creation, because it long predated the ideas he'd planted in her head.

But he needed to pretend that Lorelei was planting doubts. "Please. He can't possibly be good enough to create love out of thin air. She was infatuated with me for years. She doesn't even know him."

Lorelei chuckled. "Oh, yes she does."

That got his attention. "She does?"

"For years," Lorelei gloated.

"Do I know him?" Jane asked, his mind spinning. He knew everyone Lisbon had known for years, didn't he? Unless it was someone from her past. But no, Red John was in California, not Chicago.

"No more questions," she said, seeming amused. "And since you've been so careful not to let me slip you anything, I have to send you to sleep the hard way. Sit still and it will hurt less."

"Wait—" he protested as she jabbed the needle into his shoulder.

"You need your rest," she cooed in his ear. "Tomorrow is a very big day."

mmm

Lisbon barely slept, looking at the clock as it counted away the night and announced the beginning of the anniversary day. She wondered what Jane was doing and prayed he was all right. Even though he'd refused to accept her comfort on this day every year before, she had always hoped it helped to know it was there for him if he wanted it. And whatever he was doing today, whatever happened, she hoped he found comfort in knowing that she loved him and wanted him back.

It had been Rigsby's turn to sleep on her couch, after assuring her that Ben was with Sarah. Poor guy, he couldn't even stretch out on it. She tried to make it up to him by feeding him until he was full, which used up the last of the eggs and all the ingredients for waffle batter. Lisbon made a mental note to stop by the store. Jane would be very unhappy to come home to an eggless refrigerator, she knew.

They were running late when they got to the office, and Lisbon was surprised to find a small padded envelope on her desk. "Where'd this come from?"

Cho had followed her into her office to touch base. "Messenger. About half an hour ago."

She frowned and tore it open, jumping a little at a metallic sound. Cho leaned forward and smacked his hand down on the desk just in time to keep the object from rolling off the edge. Then he held it up with a quiet, "Huh."

Lisbon's heart froze as she recognized Jane's wedding ring, the one she had put on his finger. Cho held it out to her, and she took it with a shaking hand.

"We should dust that envelope," he said after a moment, reaching in his pocket for a glove. As he picked up the envelope, he remarked, "There's something else in here."

Lisbon swallowed hard as he held out a folded piece of paper. She carefully slid the ring into her jacket pocket and took the extra glove Cho offered her. Then she unfolded the note, automatically noting that the handwriting looked like Jane's.

_Dear Teresa,_

_I can't do this anymore. I thought I could, and I wanted to, but even I can only act for so long. I am so sorry to hurt you, but in time I think you will see this is for the best. You did give me many moments of happiness, and I'm grateful for that. I hope you won't waste your energy hating me, or hoping that I will change my mind. And I hope that you will find true happiness with someone who deserves you._

_Good-bye._

_Patrick_

Lisbon handed the note to Cho and dropped into her chair, staring at her desk.

"Don't take it at face value," Cho said after quickly reading it.

She took a deep breath. "You need to call Bertram, Moore, and Kirkland."

"Okay. You should go home," he replied.

Oh God, she wanted to. She did not want to face investigators who would pity her as an abandoned wife. But she needed to make sure someone defended Jane. "No. I just...need a minute."

"You got it." Cho snapped the blinds closed on his way out.

She appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't like she was going to have a good cry. She was at work. And no note or ring was going to make her believe that Jane had left her because he didn't want to be married anymore after a mere three months. The note might sound like him, but she knew that if he ever ended their marriage, he would either be far more apologetic, or he'd be downright cruel, hoping to make her angry instead of sad. Either someone else had written this, or he'd hoped she'd find it unconvincing.

The last line made her think it was the former. Wasn't Red John out to seduce her? And to do that, he had to first break up her marriage. He'd been watching her, after all, so he must know she wouldn't just cheat. No, Jane hadn't left her, but he was playing right into Red John's plan by pursuing his vengeance instead of sensibly escaping, she suspected. The idea of coming face to face with his enemy on this day of all days must have been irresistible, and though Jane would never admit it, he lost all trace of sense when he got emotional. That was part of why this time of year was often painful for them both. She'd so hoped this year would break the pattern.

Lisbon set the letter on her desk, resigned to having it read and analyzed. Then she drew the ring out of her pocket and looked at it, promising herself she would keep it until she could put it back where it belonged. She held it in her clasped hands as she prayed, _Please, God, keep him safe. Bring him home._

It had taken six long months for her prayers to be answered last time. She expected a more immediate response this time, but she was far from confident the answer would be the one she wanted.

mmm

Whatever drug Lorelei had given him this time produced strange, vivid dreams that stayed with him as he woke. Oddly enough, he didn't dream about Red John or his family—just weirdly mundane activities from his everyday life, slightly skewed. He went grocery shopping with Rigsby and argued the merits of Tolstoy versus Dostoevsky with Cho, then helped Grace hunt down a missing hamster in a murder victim's home. And at last he found himself in Lisbon's office, listening to a lecture about causing her extra paperwork.

_"Do you know how many forms I'm going to have to fill out to annul this marriage?" she demanded. "You didn't think about that, did you? You never think, Jane!"_

_"You don't have to do that," he said, a little alarmed. "I'll fix it."_

_"And how are you going to do that?" she scoffed. "You're a dead man, you idiot. You ruined everything. Now all I can do is get rid of the evidence."_

_"That doesn't even make sense," he said, perplexed._

_She put down her pen and looked at him sadly. "All you had to do was love me best," she sighed. "But you couldn't. I don't know if you ever even loved me at all."_

_"Of course I did. I do. I love you, I told you that."_

_"But you chose him." She got up from her chair, and he saw that she was wearing a black dress. "I have to go bury you now. Don't haunt me again. We're done."_

_"Wait. Teresa, wait!"_

He woke up just in time to avoid falling out of bed, reaching desperately for his dream version of the one person he wanted most to see. When his vision cleared, he saw Lorelei instead, watching from the doorway.

"Good, you're finally awake. It's your turn to cook," she said, folding her arms.

"When do we leave?" he croaked out.

"When you've fulfilled the conditions. I told you yesterday."

This was a day of grief, guilt, and self-loathing, but he felt that adding another sin to his lengthy list was no fitting way to observe the occasion. Surely Red John didn't honestly expect him to wreck his marriage on the mere chance of meeting him?

But maybe he did. Jane's history made it plausible, he had to admit. It hadn't even been a year ago that he'd slept with Lorelei, kissed her in an interrogation room, and offered to help her escape. He'd certainly not let concerns about Lisbon's feelings get in his way then, except for telling her not to listen, and Red John probably didn't know about that.

From the outside, maybe their marriage looked sudden and impermanent. He was selfish and obsessive, after all. There was probably no way to tell how committed he was, how he desperately wanted to be the man she deserved—or at least one who wasn't a disaster for her.

Lorelei had disaster written all over her.

_She's playing you,_ Lisbon's voice insisted in his head.

If the terms of the game didn't suit him, he had to either change them or walk away. "So how does it work, then? We have sex and then you give him a call? Or are you planning to record it, so I can't lie to Lisbon about it?"

She smirked. "Good idea. But I don't think she'll need proof. Do you? She won't know for sure if you're lying or not. The doubt will drive her crazy. Face it, Patrick: you've already lost her, just by coming with me."

"Why insist we have sex, then? I don't flatter myself I'm irresistible."

"I just got out of prison," she shrugged. "Even a half-hearted fuck would be welcome at this point."

"So that was your condition, not his."

"Let's just say I would have gotten extra credit for it."

He stared at her, trying to work out the truth. "Take me to him. Today."

"Or else what?" She clearly thought he was bluffing.

"Or else I'm going home." He was serious, whether she believed him or not. She had lied to him and drugged him, making it highly unlikely he would arrive at any meeting with Red John in any shape to achieve his goal. The sensible thing to do was to cut his losses and put an end to both his ordeal and Lisbon's. The Lisbon voice in his head—like a tart, sarcastic Jiminy Cricket—was clear on that point. _Get out of there, you idiot,_ was the nicest thing it had to say today.

"Nice try," Lorelei said. "You don't know where we are. You have no money and no ID, and there's no one nearby to ask for help. How are you planning to get home? And do you seriously think she'll take you back even if you do?"

He refrained from telling her that all he needed to do was get arrested—which in his experience was laughably easy—and that Lisbon would most certainly take him back. Instead, he frowned. "Why won't you just take me to him? Are you enjoying being my jailer?"

"Not really. And I've told you: we can't go until he sends for us. Now, are you going to fix breakfast or not?"

Jane got out of bed and considered his options. Then he smiled. "What do you like in your omelet?"

mmm

**Author's Note: **Please don't pelt me with rotten fruit or jagged rocks (or jagged rocks embedded in rotten fruit, for those of you who feel inventive). I don't like Lorelei any better than you do, and I'm not going to drag it out any more than necessary, I promise! :)


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: **Okay, we're through the worst of this particular story arc. Apologies to those of you who've found this hard to stomach, and thanks to those of you who are still with me. And either way, thanks most of all to those of you who've let me know what you thought! I should probably also note that there is no Pine Landing, California, to the best of my (Googled) knowledge, and I really know nothing about hair dye. Also, I don't own anything to do with The Mentalist and am making no money off this story. Which is good because after the hair dye incident, it seems some of you would be wanting your money back (and I don't blame you)!

**Chapter 39**

So far the interview was going well, Lisbon thought. She hadn't punched anybody, despite serious provocation. To her surprise, Moore appeared to be on her side, though that was possibly just because he disliked Kirkland. And Bertram hadn't said much, but that was probably because he usually did his best to ignore her marriage, so listening to Kirkland's highly personal questions had to make him uncomfortable. Thank God for Cho, who hadn't asked anybody's permission, just planted himself in the corner behind her desk and silently supported her.

Kirkland had paused to take a sip of coffee, but now he was moving on to his next question. "And there were no changes in Jane's life that might have prompted him to take a drastic step?"

"No," she said.

"No threat to your life?"

"There's always a threat to my life," she said impatiently. "Red John loves to toy with Jane."

"But has there been a specific threat recently?" Kirkland asked.

"Just the one we told you about, that he threatened to rape me if I didn't get pregnant soon. Nothing since."

"And you aren't pregnant?"

"I fail to see how that's any of your business," she retorted.

"Jane wouldn't be the first man to deal with news of fatherhood in an irrational way."

"That's ridiculous," Lisbon snapped. "He's been a father before, and he loved it."

"That was before he lost his child to the same killer who's stalking you." Kirkland attempted to look sympathetic, but Lisbon noticed his eyes were anything but. He wasn't asking questions; he was trying to sell her a story. He would keep at it until he thought he'd succeeded, she bet.

She sighed, letting her shoulders slump. "He was—he worried something was going to happen to me today. He wouldn't have left me."

Kirkland nodded slowly. "Maybe he thought he could protect you if he tricked Lorelei into taking him to Red John."

"Maybe." She had to acknowledge the painful truth of that.

"And you believe he just decided to go with her on the spur of the moment? No plan, no weapon, no backup?"

Lisbon spread her hands. "It wouldn't be the first time. What you have to understand about Jane is that he's used to being the smartest guy in the room. He outsmarts people every day. He takes it for granted that he can always do it."

Bertram spoke up. "I can attest to that. I've never met a more arrogant man in my life."

"Arrogant enough to break Lorelei Martins out of prison intending to use her to further his own ends, as well as get back at the FBI for taking her." Kirkland leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers.

"I'm not saying he isn't capable of that," Lisbon said. "Just that he had no opportunity. And no motive. Agent Moore was happy to let him talk to Lorelei."

"But you weren't," Kirkland pointed out. "You broke off your engagement because of that, didn't you?"

"Not because he talked to her, no. Because he didn't tell me about it. I was making a point about trust."

"And you trust him now?" Kirkland looked skeptical. "He chose to disappear with a former lover. He sent you his ring and a letter saying your marriage is over. Why are you still defending him instead of hiring a divorce lawyer?"

"I'm not convinced the note is genuine. The handwriting is close, but it's not exact." When she and Cho had looked at it closely, they'd both noticed the shakiness of some of the penstrokes, unlike Jane's normal fluid script, downright Victorian in its precision.

"But the ring is," Kirkland said.

"Yes, but—"

Kirkland got to his feet, surprising them all. "I'm afraid I'm not convinced, Agent Lisbon. The evidence points to Jane as a willing partner, not a kidnap victim. When we find him, we'll arrest him. If he's innocent, he can prove it in court."

Putting Jane in jail would certainly be one way to separate them, she realized. "You'll need more evidence than you've got to hold him, and you know it," she retorted. "But please do let me know when you find him. If he doesn't call me first." She made it clear which possibility she thought was more likely.

"Right." Kirkland nodded, then left. Bertram got up, gave Lisbon a warning look, and followed, but Moore remained in his seat, his expression pensive.

Lisbon prompted, "What else can I do for you, Agent Moore?"

"I wish you'd go back to calling me Stan," he remarked. "I'm on your side, you know. I don't for one minute believe Jane wanted to leave you. I think he took advantage of an opportunity, but I'll be very surprised if he doesn't get in touch soon. Meanwhile, I hope you'll let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"I don't want your sympathy, Agent Moore," she said coolly.

"I know." He stood. "But you might need my help. If you do, call me."

After he left, Lisbon swiveled her chair to look at Cho. "What do you think?"

Cho replied immediately. "Kirkland's got an agenda, Bertram just wants this all to go away, and Moore's trying to keep an open mind, but he's under pressure to buy into Kirkland's theory. None of them will make Jane's safety their priority."

"Yeah." She sighed, rolling her head a little to relieve the tension in her shoulders.

"We won't stop looking," Cho assured her. Then he left, going out to the bullpen to brief the anxious Van Pelt and Rigsby.

mmm

Jane hated admitting he was wrong, but as afternoon wore into evening, he became more and more convinced he might have been. Maybe Red John wasn't going to see him today. Maybe he was having too much fun torturing Lisbon instead. Maybe Jane should get the hell out of here and go help her instead of stubbornly clinging to an increasingly vain hope.

He realized he was rubbing his bare ring finger, and as he became conscious of the gesture, he remembered what the missing ring symbolized and where his priorities were supposed to lie now.

He definitely should get the hell out of here and go help Lisbon.

He was going to need Lorelei's keys and cell phone. Getting them off her would require a pretty spectacular misdirect, though, since she was on her guard.

"Do you have any scotch?" he asked, looking up from the crossword puzzle book he'd found in one of the other bedrooms. "I usually get drunk today. It helps me not think about them."

"There might be something," she replied, setting down the television remote and going to the kitchen.

Jane grabbed the remote and turned down the volume, which had been bothering him for the past half hour. He was tempted to turn it off altogether, since the cable show she was watching amounted to soft porn, but it occurred to him it might be useful in setting the mood. He needed her as distracted as possible, so he'd use what he had to hand.

A bottle of tequila later, he was using all his biofeedback tricks to keep his head clear, and Lorelei was getting giggly. She had a dismayingly high alcohol tolerance, he realized, probably from her time in Vegas, or perhaps from a dissolute period earlier in her life. He'd bet serious money there'd been at least one.

"So tell me," he said, making sure to slur a little, "why don't you believe Red John killed your sister? He killed my wife and daughter, and all those other women."

"Not by chaining them up to die like animals," she pointed out. "Blood is cleansing. There's an art to what he does, a deeper meaning." She tossed back another shot. "There was no meaning in how Miranda died. Whoever did that was just cruel and selfish. He raped her and beat her and then left her to die. He was too selfish even to end her suffering himself."

"But what if the method was part of the meaning?" Jane asked. "If he killed her to recruit you, he couldn't leave his signature. He had to make it look like something he'd never do."

"He's not a sicko rapist. I know him," she insisted.

"He threatened to rape my wife," he pointed out. "He tied her up and touched her and made her afraid. I call that being a sicko rapist. Or at least capable of it."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said scornfully. "You only know what she told you, not what really happened. She told you what you wanted to hear. But she liked it, I bet." She gave him a sharp smile. "He's really very good in bed. Much better than you."

And there was his opening. "Hey. That was my first time in nine years. You shouldn't judge me by that."

"That's all I've got to go on. Unless you want to give me something else."

His heart beat faster at her leer. Was it really going to be this easy? "I don't want to hurt Lisbon," he said, pretending to hesitate.

Lorelei laughed, pushing herself out of the recliner and walking unsteadily over to the couch. "Then don't tell her."

He caught her before she could fall, pulling her into his lap. She slid her arms around his neck and wriggled against him, and as his hands went to her hips, he noted which pocket her keys were in. But where was the phone? She had to have one on her, didn't she?

Without warning, he pushed at her so she landed on her back and pinned her with his body, noting how her pulse sped up and her pupils dilated. "You like it rough, don't you? He teach you that?"

"He taught me to celebrate what I can endure. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he growled, sinking his teeth into her shoulder. She cried out, completely failing to notice him lifting her keys.

"Yeah," she moaned. "Just do it. Hard."

"Trust me," he whispered, trying not to grin, "you're never going to forget this."

And she was certainly never going to forgive him, either.

mmm

Lisbon had managed a short nap on her couch, exhausted from two mostly sleepless nights and the worrying and conjecture when she was awake. It was almost dark when she woke, but she found her way to her ringing desk phone by feel. "Lisbon."

"Teresa Lisbon?" a female voice asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know a Patrick Jane?"

"Yes! Where is he?" She came fully awake, heart pounding.

"Mercy Hospital in Pine Landing. He was brought in with non-life-threatening injuries from a car crash. He doesn't have any identification but he said you'd have his insurance information."

Where the hell was Pine Landing? Lisbon grabbed her wallet and looked for her copy of Jane's insurance card, grateful she'd moved him to her insurance plan since it was more comprehensive than his old one. "Yes. But first, he was kidnapped, so I need you to call the police and get him some protection."

"They're already here. There's a strong suspicion he was driving drunk, besides having no license."

"I'm on my way. Just don't let anyone take him out of that hospital until I get there. Anyone, you understand?"

"Yes, but—"

Lisbon pulled the phone away from her face and yelled, "Grace!"

"Yes, Boss?" Van Pelt pushed open the door, looking worried.

"Give her Jane's insurance information." Lisbon pushed the receiver and card into Van Pelt's hands, grabbed her jacket, and ran for the bullpen. "Cho, Rigs, with me. We've found Jane!"

mmm

They made the drive in just over 45 minutes, thanks to Rigsby's just-this-side-of-reckless driving. That was more than long enough for Lisbon to think of all the ways this could turn out badly, especially since when she called the hospital back, they wouldn't confirm they had a patient named Patrick Jane, citing patient confidentiality laws. It was possible this was all a trick to lure her out of the CBI. But she couldn't take the chance it wasn't.

Still, if Jane wasn't seriously hurt, why didn't he call? Was it because he really was drunk, or drugged maybe? Did he think her cell might be tapped?

Cho went to the ER with her while Rigsby parked. Lisbon had no patience for anything but seeing Jane right this minute, and she made short work of the admitting nurse, who directed her to a bed at the far end of the ward. Lisbon looked blankly at the two uniformed cops talking to a man with light brown hair until the patient turned his head and shouted happily, "Teresa!"

She hurried over to him, relieved at his big smile and bright eyes, which were familiar despite how weird the new hair made him look. Cho followed at a more sedate pace, asking, "What did you do to your hair this time?"

"Wasn't me. Teresa, you okay? Do you have my ring?"

"Are you okay?" she asked in response, biting her tongue to keep from asking if he was drunk. He obviously was, and from the cops' expressions, there was a DUI charge in his very near future. She looked at Cho, and he swiftly rounded the locals up for a chat over by the next bed.

"Never better, now you're here," Jane beamed. Then he frowned. "My ring. She took it. Did she send it to you?"

"Yes." She decided she'd tell him about the note after he sobered up, pulling the ring put of her pocket and sliding it onto his finger. Jane let out an exaggerated sigh of relief and yanked her into a hug, causing her to lose her balance and sprawl across him on the bed.

"I missed you," he said into her ear, a little too loudly.

"I missed you too," she whispered back, allowing herself a minute to enjoy being back in his arms. She sent a quick _thank you_ heavenward before turning her attention back to their situation.

She needed to get him out of here and sober him up before either the local cops or Kirkland tried to arrest him. So first she needed to find out if she was up against more than the liquor he reeked of. With difficulty, she turned her head and spotted an older woman in a white coat waiting to be acknowledged.

"You're the doctor?" Lisbon asked, struggling to sit up. Jane merely hung on tighter, refusing to let her move away.

"I'm Doctor Archer, and I've been treating Mr. Jane, insofar as he will let me. You're his wife?"

"Yes, Teresa Lisbon." Lisbon poked Jane hard, trying to make him let go, but he only grunted and tightened his grip again. So she hissed, "Let go, Jane! I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Take me home, Teresa," he sighed, reluctantly letting his arms drop but grabbing one of her hands. "I just want to go home."

"We'll go in a minute," she said, sitting up. "But I have to talk to the doctor first and fill out some forms. Dammit, Jane, do you have to make paperwork for me everywhere you go?"

She was teasing, but his expression crumpled alarmingly. "Sorry," he said miserably. "I'll help. I'll fix it."

"Relax," she soothed. "I got this." She squeezed his hand comfortingly as she turned back to the doctor. "Can he be released?"

"From a medical standpoint, yes. His blood alcohol level and the fact that he was driving a car that doesn't belong to him with no identification is what's keeping him here. That, and I gather there are some other charges pending."

"No," Lisbon said. "Just a misunderstanding." She drew out her badge. "My husband was kidnapped by the associate of a serial killer. Obviously he was forced into desperate measures to escape."

"Veeeery desperate," Jane said, nodding earnestly.

Lisbon shot him her best quelling look, but it only made him break out in a silly grin. "I missed you," he stage whispered.

Cho came over just as Rigsby joined them. "They went to the address the car was registered to, but no one was home. They didn't search it. They didn't believe Jane's story. I'm going back there to see if there are any clues where Lorelei is. Rigsby, you stay here and keep an eye on things."

Rigsby opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off as angry voices from the admitting area revealed they were no longer alone. He grimaced, then said, "I just barely got in here ahead of them. Jane, what did you do to your hair?"

Jane rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone obsessed with my hair?"

"Who—" Lisbon started to ask, then broke off as Kirkland and Moore entered the room. She slid off the bed, ready to do battle, but Jane wouldn't let go of her hand. She glanced over her shoulder at him and said quietly, "Don't talk. Let me handle this."

He grinned at her, and she turned her attention back to the new arrivals, squaring her shoulders.

mmm

"Agent Lisbon," Kirkland greeted her with a frown, coming to stand what Jane considered a step and a half too close to her. "I thought we had an understanding."

"We just got here. Until I saw him, I wasn't sure he was really here," Lisbon replied.

Jane listened closely, making sure to keep his expression slack. Exaggerating his level of intoxication had bought him time, but now that the feds were here, he might need to come clean. No need to get Lisbon into trouble before she'd even had a chance to lecture him about running off with Lorelei. And from the tension in her posture, it appeared Kirkland had been giving her a hard time about that.

"Has he told you what happened?" Kirkland demanded.

"I don't make a habit of interrogating obviously intoxicated witnesses," Lisbon said with dignity.

"'M okay, Lissbon," Jane slurred.

"I'll be the judge of that," she snapped over her shoulder before turning back to Kirkland. "If you're looking for Lorelei Martins, you should go with Cho to check out the address the car Jane was driving was registered to. It hasn't been searched."

Kirkland looked over her shoulder at Jane. "Is that where she is?"

"Dunno. I left her all tied up and took the car, but I didn't look at the registration," Jane replied. "It was a three-bedroom ranch style house, brown with white shutters. Kitchen hadn't been redone since the seventies." He shuddered. "Hey, if you find my wallet, you'll bring it back to me, won't you? And my cell phone?"

Kirkland didn't reply, turning to the locals and demanding the address. Cho said to Moore, "You want my help, or can I go home?"

"I'd appreciate the extra set of eyes. We can give you a ride back when we're done," Moore replied. "Jane, glad to see you in one piece."

"Wait until I get done with him," Lisbon muttered.

Moore tried hard not to grin. "Better get cooking," he advised Jane before going over to where Kirkland was looking at a map with the locals.

"Why?" Jane wondered aloud. "What did I do?"

Rigsby said, "You're kidding, right? We saw the ATM footage, Jane. And that note—I'm just surprised she hasn't punched you yet."

"What note?" Jane let his confusion show.

"You hush," Lisbon said, to which of them it wasn't clear. Jane was betting it was mostly to him, though. He was surprised when she turned to face him and continued, "I've about had it with you. What were you thinking? How many times do I have to tell you that you can't trust her?"

She was going to have this conversation here? It wasn't often she blindsided him. Maybe she was angrier than he thought. "I know, I know. You're right," he said, studying her face for clues.

"Did you sleep with her?" she demanded, her voice going shrill.

Okay, something was very wrong here, Jane decided. Lisbon never aired dirty laundry in public. Accusing him of adultery in front of a group of riveted law enforcement officers and medical professionals was so unlike her that it must be a desperate misdirect. "No!" he said indignantly, thankful to be able to tell her the truth.

To his horror, she folded her arms and looked skeptical. Then she took a deep breath. "Would you admit it if you had?"

He had no idea what his next line was supposed to be. He hated it when other people directed. After a moment, he decided on an ambiguous reply. "Why would I do that? It would serve absolutely no purpose except to hurt you, and I know you don't believe this, but I do try not to hurt you."

Lisbon sucked in a watery breath that tugged at his heart. Then she spun around, spotted the doctor, and snapped, "I want him tested for STDs."

Jane snuck a glance at Rigsby, wondering if he was in on whatever Lisbon's plan was, but the man looked like he wanted to drop through a hole in the floor. Cho gave no clues, as usual, and Moore looked confused. Kirkland—

Ah. That was who this was aimed at. He was practically radiating smugness, as opposed to the discomfort of almost everyone else in the room. Okay. Now that he had Lisbon's play figured out, he could back it. "Lisbon," he whined. "I didn't sleep with her. Honest."

"Your definition of honesty leaves a lot to be desired, Jane," she retorted. "And I'm not going to let you endanger my health as well as my safety."

He wanted to point out that worrying about his infecting her implied she planned to have sex with him again, but she might punch him, and his head was already hurting. "I was trying to keep you safe. She said she'd take me to him. I wanted to kill him before he could do anything worse to you."

"That's great, Jane. Your excuse for adultery is intent to commit homicide. We'll just add that to the rest of the charges, shall we?" She looked both royally pissed off and on the verge of tears, and he was alarmed that he couldn't tell if it was all part of the act or if she really believed he might be lying.

Cho came back over to Lisbon and laid a hand on her shoulder, making Jane blink in surprise. Had they cooked this insane plan up together while he was gone? He should definitely not leave them to their own devices ever again.

"Boss," Cho said, "calm down. I'll stay here and run this, and Rigsby will take you home, with or without Jane. Your call. I told the sheriff he can press charges later if Jane's story doesn't pan out."

"Lisbon, you said you'd take me home," Jane reminded her, blending some fear into his whine.

She glared at him like he was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. Then, so fast he almost missed it, she winked.

Jane wanted to collapse in relief, but he kept his expression steady. He was going to kiss her breathless the moment they were alone, he thought.

Lisbon sighed. "If I leave him here, he'll just get into more trouble. And we need to keep an eye on him until Lorelei is caught. Rigs, you stay here and watch him like a hawk while I do the paperwork."

"Got it," Rigsby said.

A few moments later, the room had cleared except for the two of them. Rigsby cleared his throat, then said, "So, you okay?"

"Just peachy," Jane said, letting his head fall back on the pillow. "Has she eaten today?"

"Not that I saw."

"What's this note you mentioned?"

Rigsby gave him an odd look as he realized Jane wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd pretended to be. "It came with the ring. Boss said it wasn't your writing, but it was damn close."

Oh, this was not good. "And what did it say?"

"Um, basically that you didn't want to be married anymore, that it was all an act."

Great. He wasn't going to be able to cook his way out of that.

"So you didn't write it," Rigsby said.

"I don't think so. She kept me drugged up part of the time. I guess it's possible I did," Jane admitted.

"You might not want to mention that," Rigsby remarked.

Jane had to bite down on his tongue to keep a sarcastic retort from emerging. "If I did write it, it wasn't because I meant it," he pointed out.

"Right." Rigsby looked around like he was hoping for rescue.

"What else happened while I was gone?" Jane asked.

"Let's see. Kirkland decided that you broke Lorelei out of prison and were her accomplice, not her captive. Bertram ordered us not to look for you since you were part of the Red John case. Oh, and Grace bought this cool new laptop she says will really help next time we're doing something we don't want traced."

"So why didn't Kirkland arrest me just now?" Jane wondered.

"He doesn't have any evidence. I don't think they've figured out how Lorelei escaped yet, but you had nothing to do with it. Right?"

"Right," Jane said firmly. Really, did Rigsby expect him to admit it if he had? "Did you bring the bag from my car?"

"Yeah, Lisbon remembered it. I'll go get it when she gets back."

"You don't actually have to babysit me."

"Yeah, I actually do. I'm not pissing the boss off right now."

Apparently Rigsby's heroic streak didn't extend to risking Lisbon's wrath, Jane reflected. He couldn't really blame him, though.

They were both a little relieved when Lisbon stalked back into the room. "Rigs, go get his bag, would you?" she asked.

"Sure, Boss. Be right back." He hurried out.

"You okay?" Jane asked quietly.

"Ssh," she replied just as quietly. She didn't come within his reach, folding her arms and looking like she was forcibly holding herself back from punching him. Only the look in her eyes when her gaze flicked to him gave her away.

He decided to save his questions for later.

mmm

Jane meant to take advantage of the drive home to clear the air with Lisbon, but the walk to the SUV was more tiring than he'd anticipated, and he ended up sprawled across the back seat. He was surprised but delighted when Lisbon opened the back door and slid in with him, guiding his head to her lap and running her fingers through his dyed hair with a sigh that was part relief and part exasperation. It was soothing, and he dozed off, waking only when they reached their apartment building.

Grace was waiting for them in the lobby, smiling as she saw Jane and handing him a bottle of clarifying shampoo. Obviously someone had called ahead with a request. "Use this. A lot. It hasn't been 48 hours yet, right?"

"Thanks, Grace," Lisbon said, solving the minor mystery of who thought his hair color was so important.

The four of them went up to the apartment, keeping silent until Grace finished her sweep and made sure no intrusions had taken place. Then she and Rigsby said their good-nights.

"Come for breakfast and we'll talk," Jane invited.

"Um," Lisbon said, "we'll bring breakfast to the office. We need to go to the store before you can cook."

Jane sighed, noticing the guilty look on Rigsby's face. "Right. Thanks again, guys."

"Glad to have you back," Grace smiled as they left.

After he closed the door, Jane staggered back a step as Lisbon flung herself at him. He happily returned the embrace, savoring her scent and the steady beat of her strong heart. But all too soon, she pulled back and said, "Shower, Jane. You reek. She didn't let you bathe?"

"The bathroom door didn't lock," he explained. "I'll be right back." He thought about suggesting she join him, but he didn't want to disturb her apparently forgiving mood.

When he finished showering, having tried his best to scrub out the dye, Lisbon had finished locking up and turning off the lights, except for the small lamp on his side of the bed. He smiled broadly at the sight of her waiting for him—she would have been well within her rights to banish him to the couch or the guest room. The fact that she was wearing her jersey wasn't a problem, since he doubted he was up for anything but sleeping tonight anyway.

He switched off the lamp and slid under the covers, wincing a little at his bruises from the car crash. Lisbon tried to be careful as she wound her arms around him, but he couldn't quite stifle a grunt as she pressed against him. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be," he yawned. "Thanks for coming to get me."

She sighed, her breath washing over his neck. "Don't make me do it again."

"I won't. I don't think she ever intended to take me to him. I don't think he wants that anymore."

"Because he wants me instead?" she guessed.

"Probably. This was a pretty good attempt at breaking us up, or at least making you doubt me."

"But I don't understand. I thought he wanted me to get pregnant. How does that square with breaking us up?"

"That never made much sense to me," Jane mused. "If he wants you for himself, why saddle you with another man's child? Maybe his intentions are evolving and he's decided there doesn't need to be a child to torture me. Just taking you away from me, and making me live with it, might be enough."

"Or taking you away from me. Kirkland was so determined you were guilty, it made me wonder if sending you to prison was part of the new plan."

"Not happening," he assured her. "I take it you want him to believe you think I slept with Lorelei?"

"Mm hm." He felt her pulse quicken, and she swallowed, then asked, "Did you?"

"No. And that's the truth, Teresa. I promised you I'd be faithful to you, and I am." He rubbed a hand down her back. "I did let her believe we were about to. But I just needed to get her distracted and in a vulnerable position so I could tie her up with my belt."

Her fingers curled against him. "I remembered what you said to me, about how I should do what it takes to survive, and you'd always want me back no matter what. And I knew I should feel the same way. I did, really. But it just made me sick to think of you with her."

"But you still came to get me, and protected me from Kirkland, and let me back into bed," he pointed out, pressing a kiss into her hair. "It's not like I wouldn't care if the tables were turned. But I wouldn't punish you for what you couldn't help. Or at least, I would try very hard not to. You don't need to feel guilty about any of this, Teresa. The whole situation was designed to upset you."

She was silent for a moment, but he could feel her thinking, so he wasn't surprised when she asked, "Do you think they found her?"

"I hope so," he said. "I hate to think of her out there loose and pissed at me."

"I'll keep you safe," Lisbon promised. "No more sending you out into the field without me."

"Good. And I'll try not to drive you crazy hovering," he promised in return.

"Was it worth it? Did you at least learn something?"

He nodded, knowing she could feel the movement of his head. "Red John is someone you know. Someone you've known for years."

Lisbon sucked in a breath. "She told you that? You believe her?"

"I said he couldn't make you fall in love with him when you didn't even know him," Jane explained. "She took great pleasure in telling me how wrong I was. I think that was the truth, yes."

She pressed her face against his shoulder. "I guess that would explain how he knows so much about us, how he watches us. If he knows us, he doesn't need to do it all by surveillance."

"That probably means he's someone at CBI," Jane said. "Or closely connected. Someone you see often." He tightened his grip on her, then forced himself to relax again. "And that means he's been under my nose the whole time."

"We should tell Moore," Lisbon said after a long moment.

"You trust him?"

"No. But he's not actively out to get you like Kirkland is. And it's his case."

"Agreed," Jane said. He yawned again. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow, Teresa. I promise."

She hummed against him in response, and after a few minutes he heard her breathing change. It wasn't long before he joined her in sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: **Thanks as always to those of you who continue to invest time in this story—I know I'd hesitate to commit to reading something this long! I so appreciate all of you who tell me to keep going, and never fear, we will get to an end at some point. I had originally hoped to finish before the season finale but I've been working so much overtime that seems highly unlikely. But then, maybe it's good to have something to keep myself sane during the hiatus!

**Chapter 40**

When Jane and Lisbon walked into the CBI the next morning, Cho tossed Jane his wallet. "Your phone was smashed," he said.

Jane sighed. He hated getting used to a new phone, and he knew he'd have to look pretty hard to find a flip phone instead of one of those overly complicated smartphones.

Lisbon asked, "Any sign of Lorelei?"

"She wasn't there anymore, but she didn't take time to clean up. There's plenty of evidence she and Jane were both there, and we found the tranquilizers and syringe she used, which makes it harder to argue Jane was there willingly."

"Good," Lisbon said, setting a box of pastries down on the table.

Cho continued, "The FBI is tracking down the owner of the property. Moore will be here later to get your statement, Jane."

"Fine," Jane said.

Lisbon said, "It goes without saying that we can't let Jane go anywhere on his own while Lorelei is on the loose."

"Yeah," Cho said. He looked at Jane. "Next time someone tries to abduct you, yell or something."

"You got it," Jane promised. He cast an annoyed glance at the pair of female agents in the hallway who had stopped to stare at him, whispering to each other. He didn't think he looked strange enough to gawk at; _some_ of the dye had washed out, after all. So what if he was, temporarily, a brunet with blond highlights? Women changed their hair color all the time—wasn't it sexist to find it odd when a man did it?

Lisbon smirked a little. "You'll be quite the topic of conversation for a while."

Jane ran a hand through his hair. "I'll just tell them you made me do it so I'd be a less attractive target for prison escapees."

"Ha, ha. If I wanted to do that, I'd cut it too," she replied. "A buzz cut, maybe."

He stared at her in unfeigned horror. "I already promised to behave. You don't have to threaten me."

"Please. As if I could ever believe your promises again," Lisbon retorted.

Jane usually enjoyed playing a role, but he could already tell he was going to absolutely hate masquerading as an unfaithful husband. Lisbon deserved to enjoy whatever punishment she could devise for him, though. And they were beginning to attract a crowd. "I can only say I'm sorry and promise it will never happen again. Time will prove my sincerity," he declared.

"Until the next time Red John sends you a nice piece of temptation." Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Cho, let me know when Stan gets here. And keep an eye on this one."

"Will do," Cho said.

"Stan, is it?" Jane couldn't resist asking as Lisbon walked away from him. "Should I be worried?"

"Go to hell, Jane," she shot back, pushing her office door open with unnecessary force.

mmm

Moore took his time showing up, and Jane passed the morning on his couch, listening to snippets of conversation from passersby. A surprising number of people were inclined to speculate about his marriage, and even take sides in a nonexistent fight about which they knew absolutely nothing, since he was positive Cho, Rigsby, and Grace weren't talking. Had Kirkland managed to get rumors started so quickly without even making an appearance? Possibly. From what Lisbon had said, he was on good terms with Bertram, and Bertram's staff were some of the most dedicated gossips in the entire state capitol complex. He wondered if the director would come see for himself. Or perhaps, since Bertram was technically his boss, he should go make a report or something.

"No," Cho said when Jane got to his feet.

"What?" Jane protested.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't."

"But I was just going to make myself a cup of tea."

"Right." Cho was definitely not buying his innocent smile. "I'll just get myself some more coffee, then."

Rigsby and Grace tried not to smirk, since they were supposed to be angry with him on Lisbon's behalf, but their eyes gave away their amusement.

"I suppose," Jane said, resigned, "you won't let me visit the men's room unsupervised, either."

"That's Rigsby's job," Cho said, which was apparently news to Rigsby. "Do you need to go?"

Jane bristled at being treated like a four-year-old. "Not at the moment."

"Okay then."

Grace managed to turn her laugh into a coughing fit, so Jane went over and patted her on the back helpfully. Then he went into the break room and took his time brewing a cup of tea, pondering what he would get Lisbon for lunch. Since he was supposed to be in trouble with the entire team, he thought he'd spring for lunch for everyone. But it needed to be something Lisbon would particularly enjoy, especially since he hadn't been able to cook her a good breakfast.

He wandered back into the hallway just in time to see Moore knock on Lisbon's door. "Stan!" he called out cheerfully.

"Patrick," Moore replied. He looked exhausted, but he gave a wan smile. "Made it through the night in one piece, I see."

"Yes." Jane was struck by inspiration. "Have you eaten? I was just about to spirit my lovely wife off to lunch. You're welcome to join us."

"Sounds great," Moore replied, confirming Jane's hunch that he hadn't had breakfast.

Jane followed Moore into Lisbon's office and plucked her jacket off her chair, holding it and waiting for her to stand. "Lunchtime, my dear," he prompted. "I hope you don't mind that I invited Stan to join us."

"Jane, I'm in the middle of something," she said, annoyed.

"And it will still be here when you get back. You have to eat, and we have to cooperate with the FBI," Jane pointed out. "Represented by a very hungry Agent Moore."

She sighed and got to her feet, and Jane helped her into her jacket, giving her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. He tried to drop a kiss into her hair, but she ducked away from him and shot him an irritated look.

"I'll just get the others," Jane said, ignoring Lisbon's attempted protest.

mmm

Lisbon didn't feel like driving, so she agreed that she and Jane would ride with Moore while the others followed in Cho's car. Jane chattered away with Moore, making small talk; she knew he was saving his account of his abduction until they were all together so he wouldn't have to repeat it. She was free to let her thoughts drift, so she did.

It was hard pretending to be mad at Jane when her predominant feeling was relief at having him back. She had to actively concentrate on the annoyance she felt at his having run off, but frankly she was used to that when Red John was concerned. She mostly felt resigned; although Jane had eventually chosen to come back to her this time, he would always struggle with his priorities when it came to Red John.

She was so tired of this. It wasn't as if this was new knowledge about Jane, but when they'd become a couple, they were both under the illusion that they wouldn't have to deal with this issue anymore. She didn't know how they could sustain their marriage without finding a better way to cope than their old pattern of reckless pursuit on his part and fruitless pleas for caution on hers.

It was a hopeful sign that Jane took his vows to her seriously enough to have abandoned his course, even if he'd waited until almost the last minute. Before, she thought he would have stayed, taking even the smallest chance to get to Red John. But then, if this had happened before they became lovers, he would have given Lorelei what she wanted, perhaps increasing his odds of success.

Jane was taking great pleasure in organizing their lunch, she noticed, making a point of choosing one of her favorite restaurants and charming the hostess into a table with a nice view when they arrived. He insisted on waiting until they had eaten to talk seriously, which she hoped was for Moore's benefit, not hers. But finally they were all full, and it was time for Jane to tell his story.

He stuck to the facts, but Lisbon could fill in the blanks with what he'd been thinking and feeling. She knew he hated anything that interfered with his ability to think, so he must have found being drugged terrifying.

Moore listened closely, then handed Jane a copy of the note that had accompanied the ring. "And you don't remember writing that?"

"No. If I did, she must have dictated it. I wouldn't have written it that way," he said, reaching for her hand under the table.

"I agreed with Agent Lisbon about that," Moore said. "You would either have written pages of apologies or omitted them altogether."

Jane frowned, then looked at her with his most intense gaze. "I'd never do it at all. I promised until death, and I meant it."

"I know," she murmured. Then she remembered she wasn't supposed to be forgiving him yet and said more loudly, "If you do decide to leave me, I expect you to give me the opportunity to tell you what a jerk you are in person."

"And possibly punch me," he grinned. "Yes, dear, I promise you that. And in the much more likely event that you decide to end it, will you promise to do it in person?"

"What do you think I'd do, text you?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm a grown up. Of course I would do it in person. In fact, I'd probably drag you to months and months of couples counseling first."

"Good to know," he said. Then he turned back to Moore. "Any luck finding her yet?"

"Yes, actually." Moore pulled a photo out of his briefcase, then handed it to Jane.

Lisbon leaned over to get a look, stifling a gasp of shock as she recognized both the killing style and the victim. "Red John killed Lorelei last night."

"Very early this morning," Moore corrected. "There's more, Agent Lisbon. Anything else look familiar?"

Jane said, "He left her in a church. See the stained glass in the corner?"

Cold dread washed over her. "Which church?" She hoped fiercely that she was wrong about her sudden hunch.

Moore looked grim. "Saint Teresa's. It's across town."

"I know where it is," she murmured. At least he hadn't defiled the church she went to regularly, though he probably knew which one it was. Instead, he'd opted for one with her name, to make the connection obvious even to people who didn't stalk her.

Jane squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her even though she could feel how tense he had become, and said, "This is different. He laid her out formally. Was the sheet brought from somewhere else?"

"Yes. The church staff said they'd never seen it before."

"A sign of respect, or maybe affection," Jane murmured.

"Or regret," Moore added. "To make the point that this was a sacrifice for him."

"For my benefit?" Lisbon asked, glancing at Jane.

"This isn't your fault," he said quickly.

Moore said, "My guess is that this is a message for you, Agent Lisbon. A gift, if you will. Because everyone knows you felt threatened by her."

"I did not," Lisbon said firmly.

"You broke off your engagement because of her," Moore said.

"That wasn't about her," Lisbon protested.

Jane intervened. "He meant for you to see her as a home wrecker. Lorelei said that you wouldn't take me back because you wouldn't be able to believe me when I said I didn't sleep with her."

"So he sent her to come between us and then killed her as some kind of gift to me?" Lisbon shook her head. "That's crazy."

Jane nodded. "He must be a little desperate for ways to impress you. Not much does. He lacks my main advantage of increasing your case closed rate, after all."

"Murder certainly isn't the way to impress me," she frowned.

"In his mind, he gave up someone who mattered to him for you," Moore mused. "He'll almost certainly expect you to return the gesture."

Lisbon looked around the table at her people, all of whom mattered to her very much. She couldn't live with herself if something happened to any of them because of Red John's obsession with her.

Jane leaned close and murmured, "You are not responsible for anything he does."

_You hypocrite_, she thought. How could he say that to her and yet refuse to apply it to himself? She bit her tongue to avoid pointing out that by that logic, he wasn't responsible for his first wife's and daughter's deaths. That was a truth he wasn't ready to accept, and might never be.

Moore continued, "But there's one very odd thing here. I don't know if you can see it, but this mark on her shoulder? It's a bite mark. We got a clean impression from it, which we can match to dental records when we get a suspect. But what bothers me is that it's so unlike Red John to leave such evidence."

"Because he didn't," Jane said. "That was, er—" He made a complicated gesture with his free hand that was apparently meant to be an admission.

Lisbon's stomach turned, and she snatched her hand out of Jane's, threw her napkin on the table, and got to her feet, murmuring, "Excuse me."

"Teresa, wait," Jane protested, coming partway out of his chair.

She dodged his outstretched hand, snapping, "I don't want to hear it." Then she hurried toward the ladies' room.

mmm

"Grace," Jane said urgently, but she was already on her feet and hurrying after Lisbon. He scrubbed at his face, frustrated that he couldn't tell how much of Lisbon's reaction was real. He had no such difficulty with Cho's and Rigsby's expressions of disgust, however.

He'd never really recognized how much of his self-worth was invested in his identity as a good husband. He'd been faithful to his first wife and proud of it, seeing his resistance to near-constant temptation as the mark of a strong character. And he'd indulged her to feed his own vanity, he realized now. But he hadn't been a good enough husband to give her what she really wanted, the one thing that would have saved her life: abandoning his career as a fraud. He'd remained true to her memory as penance, though, only giving up his celibacy for a chance at getting her killer.

Vowing to be a better husband for Lisbon, he'd felt virtuous for giving up his vengeance to save her. He pampered her and did his best to make her happy, pouring his energies into their relationship to keep from confronting the void left by his failure to kill Red John. But the moment he'd caught a glimpse of a chance to achieve his old goal, he'd taken it, despite the fact that he knew he was hurting Lisbon, possibly even endangering her, in the process.

If Red John's goal had been to show Lisbon what an unworthy husband she had, he'd succeeded. And now Jane was walking around with a figurative scarlet letter, an object of scorn. He hated it passionately. It felt like failure—spectacular, public failure.

Moore cleared his throat, pulling Jane's attention back to the here and now. "Maybe we should take advantage of this time to discuss any details your wife would find upsetting."

"There's nothing to discuss. I already told you I distracted Lorelei by pretending to want sex with her. She liked it rough, so I bit her to make sure she wouldn't notice me lifting her keys. That's all there is to it."

"We also found evidence that she was raped. Whoever did it wore a condom, though, so no DNA. You want to change your story? You said she liked it rough—maybe it wasn't Red John who had sex with her, but you?"

"I didn't have sex with her," Jane replied, keeping his voice calm.

Moore glanced at Cho and Rigsby. "Can you guys give us a minute?"

Jane said, "I have nothing to say that they can't hear."

"Are you sure? Because it's well known that Agent Lisbon's team are fiercely loyal. I could understand if you were worried about getting beat up in a dark alley for cheating on her."

"I didn't cheat on her!" Jane felt frustration rising and took a moment to swallow it down. "Sit down, Rigsby." Cho hadn't moved, he noticed.

Rigsby dropped into his seat again, glancing worriedly around.

Moore continued, "Can you prove your whereabouts between two and four a.m.?"

"I was at home, in bed, with my wife. The lobby security footage should support that," Jane said. "Since I take it you won't accept her word alone."

"Personally, I would," Moore said, shrugging. "But my boss won't. I'll get the footage; that should help."

"Wait a minute," Rigsby said. "Red John killed Lorelei. Why do you want Jane's alibi?"

"Because if you look closely, the cutting style is slightly different. Sloppier. It could be a copycat." Moore was speaking to Rigsby, but he was looking at Jane.

"Let me guess," Jane said. "Having studied Red John so closely for so long, you think I'd have no trouble recreating his particular style?"

Moore leaned forward slightly. "Are you denying that you have that ability?"

Cho said, "Jane. Stop talking now, until you get a lawyer."

"Don't be absurd," Jane scoffed. "I don't need a lawyer. I'm innocent." He refrained from reminding his friend that he'd beat a murder rap of which he was actually guilty without resorting to a lawyer.

"You're an idiot," Cho retorted. "Rigsby, get Lisbon."

"Right." Rigsby was out of his chair before Jane could stop him, his long strides taking him across the restaurant in almost no time.

As much as Jane wanted to see Lisbon right now, he also didn't want to give her yet another problem. He could take care of this before it got out of hand. "Stan—"

"Jane, I'm serious," Cho interrupted. "Don't make me shut you up."

"Are you threatening me?" Jane demanded incredulously.

"Do I need to?" Cho responded, folding his arms.

"Look," Moore said, "this isn't a witch hunt. I don't think Jane killed Lorelei Martins. But my boss is going to ask these questions, and I need to have answers."

"Uh huh." Cho looked unconvinced.

It occurred somewhat belatedly to Jane that Cho was a talented interrogator in his own right, and if he thought this was going badly, perhaps it would be wise to listen to him. But that didn't mean he had to cave to blatant threats. "Are you volunteering as my lawyer?" he asked.

"No. I'm trying to keep you from being perp walked out of this restaurant before you've paid for lunch."

"Right." Jane reached for his wallet and signaled the waiter for the check.

mmm

Lisbon leaned against the sink and glanced at her watch, wondering how long she needed to give this before she could return to the table. Reassuring Van Pelt that she wasn't going to have a breakdown in a public restroom had taken all of two minutes, and now it was just a question of making this look realistic. Fortunately they had the room to themselves, so she didn't have to keep up the act in here.

Of course, the thought of Jane with Lorelei really had unsettled her stomach a bit. She wished she had some Tums on her. She wondered if she should send Van Pelt out to ask for some, but that had a pretty good chance of resulting in Jane barging into the ladies' room, intent on taking her home to fuss needlessly over.

Van Pelt looked like she was debating something. Then she drew a breath and asked, "Do you believe Jane? That he didn't sleep with her?"

"I choose to believe him," Lisbon replied. Which was different from knowing he hadn't done it, of course, but she might never know that for sure. She couldn't discount the possibility that Jane was lying through his teeth to avoid hurting her. All she could do was trust her instincts, which told her he was sincere when he'd answered her question last night. Being married to a such a proficient liar had its drawbacks, but she'd had a long time to learn his tells, subtle as they were.

"But I don't need to hear the gory details of how he didn't sleep with her," she added. The bite mark had seared one vivid image into her memory; she didn't want any more.

A loud series of knocks startled them, and Rigsby called, "Boss, we need you out here."

"Great," Lisbon sighed. Honestly, couldn't she leave Jane alone for five minutes, even with Cho and Rigsby to watch him? She pulled the door open and took in Rigsby's worried expression. "What happened?"

"Moore thinks Jane killed Lorelei," Rigsby replied, leading the way back to the table.

Van Pelt gasped, "What? That's crazy!"

Lisbon was surprised, but she was resigned to having a shitty day, so in a way this made perfect sense. She followed Rigsby back to the table. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

All three men were glaring at each other. Jane turned to look at her as he replied, "Agent Moore is floating a ridiculous theory, which Cho is validating by insisting I need a lawyer before I can be allowed to speak."

Lisbon folded her arms and decided not to sit down. Someone might need punched before this was over. She just wasn't sure whom yet. "Agent Moore, I'm pretty sure they still teach you at the FBI that you need actual evidence before you go around accusing other law enforcement professionals of murder." She glared at Moore, daring him to dispute her description of Jane.

Of course, Jane wasn't buying it either. "Or even law enforcement consultants," he added.

"The only physical evidence on the body was left by Mr. Jane, by his own admission," Moore pointed out.

"The autopsy will show that bite was made several hours before the murder," Lisbon said confidently. "Besides, Jane was with me all night."

"You were awake all night to vouch for that?"

"All night, no. But several times during the night. Jane had a nightmare. I looked at the clock after he wen back to sleep, and I remember it was a quarter after three. I had trouble getting back to sleep, so I read my email on my phone and responded to some of them. You can check that."

Jane had scowled when she mentioned his nightmares—did he really think that was a secret? But as she neatly provided him a solid alibi, he grinned a little. "I never thought I'd be grateful you're a workaholic," he murmured.

Van Pelt said, "Oh! One of those was to me." She pulled out her phone, searched for the email, and showed it to Moore.

Moore smiled. "Good."

They all stared at him, and he sighed. "I told you, I don't believe Jane killed Lorelei. He wouldn't kill in that way, and he certainly wouldn't have drawn Agent Lisbon into it by choosing a church with her name to leave the body. But my boss will want him excluded definitively. Agent Darcy's theories have their adherents."

Jane smiled, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "Well then, it seems lunch is over. Can I convince anyone to accompany me to Renatta's for a cannoli?"

"Of course," Moore continued, "an alibi provided by a spouse is always a little suspect. And I'm afraid it's widely believed Agent Lisbon lies for you on a regular basis."

Lisbon snapped, "Let me get this straight. I drive out to the middle of nowhere to go get my drunk husband, keep him from getting arrested, take him home to clean up, and then wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. And instead of calling my team to help track him down so I can knock some sense into him, I wait quietly at home until he comes back? And help him get rid of any incriminating evidence, I suppose!" It was definitely Moore who needed punched, she decided.

Moore held up his hands. "I'm just being thorough. People who don't know you might suspect you were in on it, that you allowed or even urged Jane to find and kill her."

Lisbon couldn't keep her voice from shaking with anger. "I am a cop, not goddamn Lady Macbeth! If I wanted Lorelei dead, I'd have killed her myself, not sent Jane to do it."

"I think I see the narrative here," Jane mused, seemingly unruffled. "Lisbon sent me out to clean up my mess, threatening me with divorce if I didn't. But you see, Stan, the reason everyone else is looking at you like you have two heads is that Lisbon has never, in all our years together, sent me to clean up my own mess. In fact anyone who knows me knows I can't be trusted not to just make it worse. Besides the perfectly obvious fact that Lisbon does not view murder as the preferred solution to any problem. She's been trying to talk me out of killing Red John for years, although most people would agree that is a fate he completely deserves."

Cho said, "This isn't what you should be looking at. If Red John meant to get Lisbon's attention by killing Lorelei, he'll be watching to see how she reacts. We all need to be on the lookout for anyone trying to get close to her."

"Right," Rigsby said firmly.

Lisbon's phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her pocket and stifled a groan at the caller. It appeared that, against all odds, her day was about to get worse. "Director Bertram," she greeted him as pleasantly as she could.

"Agent Lisbon, where are you?"

_Out to lunch with Jane_ wasn't going to go over well, so she converted it to, "Meeting with Agent Moore. Do we have a new case?"

"No, but I need you in my office as soon as possible. Bring Moore. His boss and I are having a little chat."

"We'll be right there," she said, then hung up. "Moore, your boss and mine want to see us. Jane, you ride back with Cho."

"I should come with you," Jane argued, frowning.

"No, you shouldn't," she retorted. "Cho, keep an eye on him. You have my permission to handcuff him to something if necessary."

"Lisbon," Jane whined.

"Go with the others," she ordered.

Cho said, "One of us should go with you, Boss."

"I'll be fine," she said.

Moore volunteered, "I'll escort her back to CBI. I won't let her out of my sight until she's back with you."

Jane scowled but didn't protest. Moore didn't fit the criteria they had for Red John: someone Lisbon had known for years. They couldn't rule out the possibility that he was a disciple, but Jane obviously didn't think he was, or he would be making a scene.

"Let's go," she said to Moore. Bertram hated to be kept waiting. As they left, she glanced over her shoulder at Jane, who looked thoroughly unhappy. "Be good," she told him sternly.

He gave her a lopsided smile, but made no promises.

mmm

"Who is your boss?" Lisbon thought to ask as she and Moore made their way through the Capitol to Bertram's office.

"Alexa Schultz," Moore replied. His tone was even, but something in the way he said it made her think he wasn't thrilled about it.

She wasn't either; Schultz was definitely not a fan of Jane's, or of Lisbon's either, for that matter. Moore's pushing Jane made more sense now. "We've met."

Moore grinned. "I know. That meeting is almost legendary. The first thing they told me when I got the Red John case was to never let Jane make me lose my temper. Schultz was furious with Mancini for that stunt in the courthouse." Then he sobered. "Sorry. I forgot you were dating him."

Lisbon shook her head. "I wasn't, not really. Jane thought he might be connected to Red John. I was trying to disprove his theory."

"Ah. That explains a lot," Moore said. "I wondered why you were dating him when it was clear in retrospect that you must already have had feelings for Jane. Trying to spot a Red John connection makes perfect sense. Though I admit I'm surprised Jane would use you like that."

"It wasn't his idea," Lisbon replied.

"But he went along with it." Moore stopped walking, a stunned look on his face. Then he grinned. "Until he couldn't stand it anymore. He wrote that note, didn't he? And Red John took offense and came after you to teach him a lesson. Which is why he felt so guilty that when he finally had a chance at Red John, he turned his back on it to save you."

Lisbon had no intention of confirming that Jane had manufactured evidence. But Moore didn't seem to expect her to. He appeared to be reevaluating everything in this new light, and she wondered what difference it made. Did he think that if Jane hadn't written the note, he would have chosen differently? Lisbon didn't, and she knew what Jane would say if asked.

Moore seemed to realize he was ignoring her. "Sorry. That just resolved some things that were bugging me. Now that I have all the pieces, I know I wasn't wrong about Jane's character."

"How so?" She was curious what the profiler made of the mentalist.

"The suddenness of the change in your relationship bothered me. I thought that meant it was an act for him, and that meant he was an amazingly good actor. But the truth is so simple: you were already in love with each other. The acting was all happening before Red John made him choose."

Lisbon asked, "Does that mean you'll stop accusing him of murder?"

"Agent Lisbon, you should appreciate the difference between accusation and interrogation." Moore pushed open the door to Bertram's outer office. The assistant waved them through, and Lisbon went first, pushing the door open before Moore could beat her to it.

Bertram hadn't mentioned Kirkland, so she was surprised to see him sitting beside Schultz in the chairs opposite Bertram's desk. Evidently Lisbon and Moore were meant to stand. The room suddenly felt like a hostile environment.

"Agents," Bertram greeted them. "I believe we're all acquainted? Then I'll get straight to the point. Director Schultz has brought me very disturbing news. If Jane is implicated in the murder of Lorelei Martins, I have no choice but to suspend him until the investigation is concluded."

Lisbon had two thoughts: Red John was definitely trying to separate her from Jane, and Jane had played right into his hands. As she opened her mouth to respond, however, Moore beat her to it.

"I've just come from interviewing Mr. Jane. I'm satisfied he was not involved in the murder of Lorelei Martins."

Lisbon was the only one in the room not stunned by this announcement. Schultz recovered first. "And do you have any evidence to back your assertion? Or has Mr. Jane hypnotized you?"

Lisbon decided to help Moore out, as he was looking like the closest thing she had to an ally in this room. She waved her hand in front of his face and watched closely. "Not hypnotized," she pronounced. "And I'm something of an expert by now. Besides, Jane has a solid alibi." She explained her wakeful night and email.

"That proves nothing," Schultz pointed out.

"The GPS in my phone will."

Kirkland said, "That only proves your whereabouts. We still have only your word that Jane was at home."

"Are you accusing a CBI agent of lying and making myself an accomplice to murder?" Lisbon demanded, hoping that would be too much for Bertram to swallow.

"No, no," Kirkland said. "I'm sure you are above reproach, Agent Lisbon."

"Thank you. I would hope you would take into account that, as an officer of the law, I would never take part in a murder or cover one up," she replied.

Bertram stopped scowling long enough to say, "Given this new information, does the FBI still consider Patrick Jane a suspect?"

Schultz corrected, "A person of interest, rather."

Bertram sighed. "Mr. Jane will make himself available for more interviews or even a polygraph, whatever you need. But if he is not a suspect, I see no reason to suspend him."

Lisbon wondered if she was really detecting regret in his voice. "Thank you, sir. Of course Jane will cooperate fully with the FBI." Though knowing him, he'd probably make them regret it.

"Very well, Agent. That is all," Bertram said.

Moore included himself in the dismissal, and they escaped into the hall. "What is Homeland Security doing in a murder investigation?" Lisbon wondered.

"The reasoning I've been given is that they're interested in Lorelei's escape. But just because the cover story is bullshit doesn't mean they don't have valid reasons."

"Hm." Lisbon felt her phone vibrate and pulled it out to see a text from Cho: _Jane is bouncing off the walls. Should I hit him or drug him?_

Lisbon sighed and texted back: _I'm on my way back. If he needs hit I'll do it._

_Got it._

"Jane?" Moore asked.

"Got it in one," Lisbon sighed.


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: **This quick little chapter is brought to you courtesy of a typo. Every time I started to type "list," it came out "lust." Finally I figured my subconscious was trying to tell me something. Hence, this little interlude, though it's still a T. I hope it doesn't disappoint!

**Chapter 41**

"You can't behave for twenty minutes?" Lisbon demanded as she strode into the bullpen.

Jane grinned, delighted to have her back so soon. He put down the pens he'd been juggling and beamed at her. "I'm behaving," he replied. "No complaint paperwork will weigh down your desk as a result of my teaching Rigsby a few amusing tricks."

"My office, now," she snapped, then turned to Moore with a genuine smile. "Thanks, Stan. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Will do." He flashed them all a grin and then left.

Jane found himself very curious about that grin. But Lisbon was about to enlighten him, willingly or not, he thought as he followed her into her office. "So," he said, "what did Bertram have to say?"

"Not much. FBI Regional Director Schultz and Agent Kirkland had plenty to say, though. They were greatly disappointed when Moore announced you were no longer a suspect and Bertram decided not to suspend you after all." She folded her arms, but he knew her annoyance wasn't aimed at him. Or at least not entirely at him.

"So, this was more than a creative way to get your attention. It was also meant to drive us further apart, either by landing me in jail or enraging you by having your veracity called into question when you provided my alibi." It was brilliant, he had to admit, except that it so underestimated Lisbon.

"But wouldn't he know that such a blatant attempt to frame you would just make me want to defend you?" She frowned.

"He probably thought you'd sleep through the night, possibly in a different room. He hasn't had much of a look at our personal life lately," he pointed out. "I think he meant you to doubt me."

Lisbon gave him a thoughtful look, and he realized he wasn't the only one wondering if her office was bugged. "Sit down, Jane," she said gently.

He took a seat on the couch, forming theories about what her next play was going to be. Lisbon leaned against her desk, arms still folded. Her posture was tense, her body language conflicted. But her eyes were soft and clear, so he opened his posture and made himself relax.

"I know," she said, still in that careful tone, "why you never let me get close all those years. You had to get Red John, and you couldn't let anything interfere with that. You felt you owed vengeance to your family, and you weren't going to let anything or anyone compete with that priority. Every time it seemed like we were getting close, you'd do something to push me away. Maybe part of it really was to keep me safe, but mostly it was because you never wanted to feel that you owed me anything. You didn't want to have to choose between me and Red John. And when that happened anyway, you panicked. And here we are."

Jane took issue with some of what she was saying, but he was far more interested in what was coming next. "Why the recap, Lisbon? My memory palace is intact, I assure you."

"I want to be sure you know that I'm not under any illusions. As long as you were hunting Red John, you were never going to let yourself get involved with me, much less marry me. At most you might have given me a night or two, as long as we both agreed there were no strings attached."

He wasn't nearly as sure as she was that he could have kept himself away from her once he'd had a taste of happiness again. "But I did stop hunting him. And I did marry you. Because I wanted to."

"I know." There was that soft, comforting tone again. It was making him a little anxious, telling him she was planning to say something that would result in his needing comfort. "But you only felt free to do that because you'd given up on getting him. And if he'd kept his side of the deal, I'm sure you would have kept yours. Because despite appearances, I know you do love me."

He didn't like the wistful way she said that. In fact, this whole conversation was sounding more and more like a breakup, Lisbon-style. "Yes, I do," he said, a little more forcefully than necessary. "And whatever you're trying to say, I recognize the obligations of our commitment. That is why I escaped from Lorelei. Because you are my priority now."

"I should be, but I'm not sure I am," she said.

He spread his hands. "I made a mistake. Lorelei appearing out of nowhere took me by surprise, and I reverted to old habits. It won't happen again."

"I wish I could believe that."

He stood, letting his agitation show, and went to stand in front of her. "I only need time to prove it. Don't give up on me, Teresa."

She let out a sigh. "What I'm trying to tell you, Jane, is that I get it. Your instinct is always going to be to go after him, by any means necessary. I've known that since we met. But I also know that marriage is something you take seriously. And I am afraid that having two top priorities in conflict with each other is a distraction you can't afford. I'd rather—" She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again her voice was roughened by emotion. "I'd rather give you up than get you killed."

"There's no conflict," he insisted. He took her face in his hands. "Teresa. There's no need for this. I promise you, next time, if there is a next time, I'll make the right choice." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently, nudging at her lips with his tongue but not insisting, since the blinds were open. He smiled a little as she leaned against him, unfolding her arms and resting her palms against his chest.

He was disappointed but not surprised when she firmly pushed him away. "Not in the office," she reminded him.

He took a step back to allow her to compose herself. "We should continue this conversation at home."

"Yes. In the meantime, take Van Pelt with you and go buy a new phone. You need to be reachable if the FBI wants to talk to you again." She turned and went behind her desk, seating herself and looking at him as if they were having a work conversation. He supposed they were now—Lisbon was very good at compartmentalizing.

"Right. Do you mind if I go home afterward? I'm a little achy from the accident."

"Fine. You know the rules, though."

"No ditching Van Pelt. Got it. As long as you stay with Cho or Rigsby. Actually, you're the one stuck with a public restroom—you take Van Pelt. I'll make Rigsby carry half the groceries, since he's partly responsible for eating the last ones."

"Fine. But get the phone first, and call me when you've done it."

"Yes, Boss." He smiled at her and left, knowing she felt their long lunch had put her behind on her workload and that she'd get more done without him around. She was having a hard time pretending to be angry and hurt, but he had no desire to goad her into real anger. His time would be better spent restocking their kitchen and cooking her a meal fit for a queen.

mmm

Jane wasn't surprised when Lisbon came home at a reasonable hour with both Van Pelt and Cho. He had dinner ready, despite the fact that Rigsby had haunted the kitchen, trying to steal snacks when Jane's back was turned. Only a threat to hypnotize him into a mortal terror of refrigerators had stopped the depredations.

They all ate like they were starving. Really, did they only eat when he made them? He had been boosting Lisbon's calorie intake for almost their entire acquaintance, and Rigsby always ate like he had a tapeworm, but he was surprised to find that even after a large lunch, Grace and Cho seemed ravenous. "So," he remarked, "how was the afternoon? Quiet?"

Grace and Cho exchanged a speaking glance. Lisbon swallowed her bite of food and said, "You missed some excitement."

"What, another disaster drill?" Rigsby guessed.

The way Cho and Grace waited for Lisbon to respond was a dead giveaway that whatever had happened, it was something a little more personal. Lisbon flicked a glance at him before answering Rigsby. "No. We did a routine sweep of my office and found a bug. So that meant we had to sweep the whole floor. We kept finding them in so many weird places that we practically tore the place apart, and when Bertram got wind of it, he ordered all the other units to do the same. We even found one in the men's room on our floor."

"Ugh." Rigsby made a face, obviously trying to remember if he'd had any conversations in there recently.

Jane knew there was worse coming by the look on Lisbon's face—and the fact that Grace and Cho had put down their forks. "And then?" he asked in a pleasant, conversational tone.

"In all the confusion, someone left a rose on my desk. We couldn't find anyone who admitted seeing anything," Lisbon sighed.

Cho's questioning glance at his boss lasted only a millisecond, but Jane caught it. "And?"

Lisbon's expression was a familiar mix of annoyance and resignation. "There was a note. It said, 'You can't save him as long as you're with him.'"

Jane let his consternation show. "He tried to force us to get married by killing a woman and her daughter, and now he wants you to leave me? I suppose that's one way to keep us from figuring out his plan: have the plan make no sense whatsoever."

"It does, though," Cho pointed out. "If the whole point has been to torture you, you had to have something to lose first. We just assumed he'd kill your new family, but this is just as bad."

"Worse," Jane murmured. He looked closely at Lisbon, convinced there was still a piece of the story missing.

Cho said, "The note wasn't with the flowers."

Ah, there it was. "Let me guess," Jane said, feeling a chill settle around his heart as he studied Lisbon closely. "He slipped it into her pocket?" It made sense, demonstrating how close he could get to her and marking his intended territory. Jane tried to tamp down his instinctual, primitive response.

Lisbon glared at Cho, but admitted, "Yes. My pants pocket."

_Red John had his hand on her ass,_ Jane realized. His inner caveman wanted to pound on the table until he broke it, then grab one of the legs and go beat his enemy to death with it. It was not, he recognized, a helpful response.

Reason re-asserted itself. There was every chance a disciple had been assigned the task. But at least there was a defined suspect pool—Jane knew it was standard practice to lock the place down under those conditions. "We need a list of everyone who was in the building during the sweep."

"Already got it," Cho said.

Lisbon pointed out, "It's a long list."

"Then we need to identify the people on it who were close enough to touch you."

"We're trying, but I was in a crowd part of the time, while Bertram was giving his speech about vigilance," Lisbon said.

Jane wondered if it would be possible to stay glued to her side from now on without making her view divorce as a desirable option. "I've been working on a list of my own," he announced. "We should look at the overlap."

Everyone looked surprised. "What list?" Lisbon asked.

"The list of men you've known for years who might be Red John. With priority given to those whose attitude toward you may have changed recently."

Lisbon tried to turn her appalled expression into an amused one. "You think you know all the men I know?"

"The vast majority, yes. We spend upward of ninety percent of our time together," he pointed out. "And I have made note of any man who displays an interest in you for years now."

Lisbon actually seemed surprised by that, but the others all aimed their not-quite-grins at their plates. Lisbon recovered quickly, asking, "And where is this list?"

Jane tapped his head. "I haven't yet had a chance to write it down."

"Then you can do that right after dinner." Lisbon seemed skeptical about his list, and he grinned, looking forward to showing her how closely—and how long—he'd been paying attention.

Rigsby glanced at his watch, and Jane asked, "You need to leave, Rigsby?"

"Not without some of that dessert you wouldn't let me near," Rigsby replied with a grin.

"I'll put some in a container for you and Ben," Jane promised, getting up.

Cho said, "Do you want one of us here tonight, Boss?"

Lisbon shook her head. "He won't make a move tonight. He'll wait to see if he's scared us."

"I agree," Jane said over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. He and Lisbon definitely needed to talk in private, and the sooner, the better.

It took only a few minutes to box up dessert for everyone and fend off offers of help with the cleanup. Lisbon fully participated in his polite but firm campaign to see their guests on their way, so he knew she agreed.

When she had closed the door behind their departing friends, he wasted no time, pinning her against it and devouring her mouth. _Mine,_ he thought, communicating it to her with his body. _Forever._

mmm

Lisbon melted into Jane's unexpected kiss instantly. Her body craved his touch, not caring about any issues that needed talked through, and after the day she'd had, she wanted nothing more than to let him drive all her worries and frustrations out of her head.

When he slid his hands under her and lifted her a little so the friction between their bodies was almost unbearable, she dug her nails into his shoulders and groaned, "Bed."

He stepped back, and she went with him, pushing at his jacket until she could fling it onto the couch. But when he stepped back again, he caught her hands in his and smiled. "Not so fast."

She frowned at him, trying to absorb the fact that they weren't on the same page after all. "Why?"

"Because if we go straight to bed, you'll wake up in the middle of the night, remember the dirty dishes, and drag yourself out of bed to deal with them, probably waking me in the process." As he spoke, he kept walking backward, drawing her along toward the kitchen. "Besides, I worked hard on my pot de crème, and I want to watch you enjoy it."

She let out a huffy sigh, but she helped him clear the table as quickly as possible. "You're the only man in the world who'd rather do dishes than have sex," she complained.

"It's not an either/or choice," he chuckled, brushing against her even though he had plenty of room to pass. "I'd rather do dishes and then have sex than have sex and then do dishes. After all, I plan to wear us both out."

She shivered as he whispered the last part into her ear, nearly dropping the stack of plates she was holding. Jane put the glasses he was holding in the dishwasher and took the plates, leaning past her to put them in as well.

Leave it to Jane to turn cleaning up into foreplay, she thought. "That's not much of a challenge, considering the day I've had."

"Then you should rest a minute," he said, putting his hands on her waist and lifting her up onto the counter. She looped her arms around his neck and stole a kiss before releasing him. But he didn't go far, picking up a small dish and a clean spoon and returning to stand between her legs. "And have some sinfully rich chocolate pot de crème." He scooped up a spoonful and brought it to her lips.

She rolled her eyes at the idea of letting him feed her, but it smelled amazing, so she opened her mouth. The incredible decadence overwhelmed her taste buds, and she moaned a little before swallowing, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the cupboard. "I might not need sex after eating that," she teased him, opening her eyes again and noticing how his had darkened as he watched her.

He grinned. "Mental note: next time save the pot de crème for the afterglow."

"Or during. It's so good I wouldn't object to licking it off select body parts," she purred, making him swallow hard.

"Ooh, very nice. But we both know how you feel about getting food on the sheets."

"Who says we have to do it in bed?" She started unbuttoning his vest. "Do I only get one bite, or do I have to feed myself?"

He fed her another bite, grinning appreciatively as she made a point of licking the spoon clean. "I want you to save your strength."

"Right. You know how prone I am to fainting spells," she said sarcastically.

Jane chuckled, holding out another spoonful. This one didn't make it to her mouth, though; it slid right off the spoon and onto her chest.

"Oh dear," Jane said unapologetically. "Let me get that for you." He began unbuttoning her blouse as he lowered his mouth and began to lick her breast clean.

Lisbon had a flashback to that night in the diner when she'd dropped whipped cream on herself. What would have happened, she wondered, if that night had ended differently?

Jane lifted his head to smile at her, then frowned as he studied her expression. "What made you sad just then?" he asked softly.

"If I hadn't answered my phone that night in the diner, what would have happened?" she asked.

Jane held her gaze, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. "I would have taken you home and made you forget you'd ever met Mancini. And I would have done everything in my power to keep you away from him after that." He looked down. "I would never have written that note, and Red John wouldn't have come after you like he did."

"So you think we would have had our night together and then just gone back to the way we always were."

"Yes. As best we could." He let out a breath. "I would do anything to keep you safe, Teresa. Then or now. And you were right in what you said in your office today. I didn't want anything to compete with my killing Red John. I wouldn't have let you close enough for either of us to think you had a claim on me." He kissed her, then whispered, "I would have made love to you and called it nothing but sex." He kissed her cheek. "And you would have known I was lying through my teeth but never called me on it." He moved to her neck. "We would both have been unhappy."

She raked her fingers through his curls, sighing as she remembered their former color. "If I make you an appointment to get your hair colored back to blond, will you do it?"

He hummed against her skin as he dotted little kisses along her collarbone. "Well, my barber certainly isn't up to it. Yes, Teresa, if it will make you happy, I will let your hairdresser do her best to fix my hair."

"Good. Because right now I'm thinking we need to go to bed and turn the lights out. I keep thinking—well, you don't look like you unless I'm looking in your eyes."

He lifted his head again to look at her in concern. "I suppose that's one drawback of licking things off your skin: I can't talk while I do it."

She whispered, "I need you to talk to me. I need to know it's you."

She watched him realize what kind of nightmares she'd had while he was gone. He rested his forehead against her shoulder and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Teresa."

"We're in this together now, Patrick. We have to stay with each other."

"I know. I won't leave again." He kissed her, long and slow and deep, as she wound her legs around him. "I'll never let him have you."

"He'll never have me, whatever happens," she said breathlessly. "I'm yours."

"And I'm yours," he whispered against her lips. "I never forgot that, even for a second. And I never will."

She smiled and kissed him. "Let's go to bed. We can finish cleaning up in the morning."

He stepped back so she could jump down off the counter, returning her smile.

mmm

When Jane woke, it was still dark outside. He'd come wide awake for no reason he could find; insomnia was like that sometimes, even though he'd tired himself out and fallen into a blissful sleep in Lisbon's arms. She was still asleep, one hand resting on his chest and her face tucked against his shoulder.

He turned carefully on his side to face her, running his hand through her hair. She made a contented little noise that made him smile, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then he slid out of bed, grabbed his boxers, and headed to the kitchen. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well finish cleaning up.

After he was done with that, he grabbed a notebook out of the desk in the den and sat down. The desk was placed under a window with a lovely view of the city; it reminded him of his attic at CBI, except much more comfortable. Thinking of his old hideaway and the hours he'd spent concentrating there helped him focus, and he picked up a pen and began to write.

He had no sense of time passing, but he'd filled nearly half the book when a sound pulled him out of his thoughts. Before he could identify what it was, he heard Lisbon call out again, her voice rising on the second syllable of his first name. "I'm in here," he called back.

There was some muttering from the bedroom, and he heard her turn on the light and shuffle into the bathroom. He'd just gone back to his list when Lisbon came in, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"I slept fine, just woke up too early," he replied, tilting his head back to look at her. She'd slipped on his shirt, he noticed, and she was a little too pale. "Is your stomach still bothering you?"

She frowned a little, then obviously decided it wasn't worth asking how he'd known when she'd tried so hard to disguise her queasiness at dinner. "Yeah, a little. I took some Tums."

"I could make you some ginger tea," he offered, turning a little to nuzzle her stomach.

"No thanks. I'll give it a minute and then see if I can get some more sleep." She ruffled his hair and moved to stand beside him so they could see each other better.

"What time is it?"

"Four-thirty. Is that your list?"

"Yes." He slid his arm around her. "Would you like to sit down and take a look?"

"Are you offering me the chair?"

"No, I'm offering you my lap," he grinned.

"Mm. My mother warned me about naked men scribbling in notebooks."

"Your mother was a wise woman,Teresa, but observe that I am not in fact naked. Sit." He drew her closer, and she gave in, letting him guide her to sit sideways on his lap and then wrap his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a little sigh. Rubbing comforting circles on her back, he thought about how to approach the topic on his mind. "You were fine this morning. Was it something you ate?"

"I think so. Lunch didn't sit well," she replied. "At the time, I thought it was because we spent most of it talking about what a great murder suspect you were. But I guess it wasn't just that. Maybe the mushrooms weren't a good idea."

Nobody did denial like she did, he reflected. "You're late again."

"I'm not pregnant."

"When was the last time you took a test?"

"The last time you made me," she grumbled. "I wasn't pregnant then either. I'm beginning to think this is wishful thinking on your part."

"Merely prudence," he corrected.

Lisbon let out a snort. "Like you and prudence are ever in the same zip code."

He leaned his face against her hair. "I'm prudent with you. For you." He paused, then whispered, "You're the last precious thing in my life."

She snuggled closer. "Oh, all right," she sighed after a moment. "I'll go buy another stupid test in the morning."

"No need. I picked one up at the store." He forestalled her grumble by adding, "I made Rigsby listen while I read the directions of three different brands, trying to find the most sensitive one. You should have seen him squirm."

"Great," she groaned. "First you make Bertram think about my orgasms, and now you've made poor Rigsby think about me peeing on a stick. I can't wait to see what you have planned for Cho. You couldn't be more obvious if you lifted your leg and peed on me on the street corner."

He chuckled, both proud of and chagrined at her insight. "Cho once threatened to punch me if I ever made him think about you in an unprofessional way. And I'm afraid he'd do more than break my nose." He paused. "Now, Kirkland—"

"Eww. He's creepy enough without you encouraging him." She thumped him on the shoulder.

"Yes. Too bad you haven't known him for years. He'd make a great suspect."

"So, this list. How much am I going to hate it?"

"I excluded your brothers, Greg, and Cho and Rigsby," he assured her. "But it's a very long list. You're constantly surrounded by men, love."

"We know he's powerful, that he has friends everywhere. That means money," she said. "He's not some small-town sheriff."

"Which is a very good thing, or this list would be completely unmanageable."

"Unless, of course," she added, "there really is a Visualize connection. That could account for his influence without him necessarily being rich."

"Yes. Brett Stiles definitely knows more than he's saying." _And he owes me a favor, _Jane thought.

Lisbon yawned, reaching up automatically to put her hand over her mouth. When the yawn was finished, she splayed her hand against his bare chest, her palm over his heart. "You want to go over there and cause trouble, don't you?"

"Not especially. I'm more interested in finding some solid leads for the others to follow while we're gone."

"Gone?" She lifted her head off his shoulder and blinked in confusion.

"It's time, Teresa. He's getting too close. Soon he won't be able to resist, and he'll take you. I'm not going to give him the chance." He tightened his arms around her. "We need to run."

She closed her eyes for a second, and when she looked at him again he could see her resolve. "I don't want to leave you in a mental institution. And I don't want to go without you."

"I know. I don't want that either."

"So what's the plan?"

He kissed her lightly to make up for what he was about to say. "The biggest reason you're so ambivalent about having a baby is because of how dangerous your job is. You don't want to leave a child motherless like you were, reliant on a father who might not be strong enough to keep going."

"I think you're strong enough," she protested.

"And," he continued, "given the fact that we work so closely together, there's a significant chance that anything that could kill you would kill me as well, leaving our child an orphan."

She struggled with her answer, but in the end they both knew she'd had that thought. "Yes," she whispered, laying her head back on his shoulder.

"When you've thought about that scenario, what comes to mind? What's the most likely way for us both to get killed? Barring a car accident, because that's way too obvious."

"Statistically, it's also very likely. We drive around together all the time, sometimes even in that contraption of yours."

"No, that's not what you think about. You think about getting shot."

He felt her lips purse. "Every cop thinks about getting shot."

"But I'm never in the crossfire. You make sure of that. Sometimes you spend so much time checking my position that I'm worried you're not thinking about your own," he admitted. "So what is the scenario where we both get killed?"

"I get shot," she said, very softly. "And you—you don't think. You just run out into the open to get to me. And you get shot too."

"Mm." He had to acknowledge she was right to worry about that. "I like it. The problem, of course, is finding suitable corpses for our stand-ins. That's what tripped us up last time, having to pass off a normal height man as Rigsby."

"I don't want to leave this mess for the others to clean up." Her voice was quiet but firm, and he knew she was far from convinced.

"They will understand."

"If he plans to take me, we can use that to finally catch him."

"Maybe. Or maybe he'll be one step ahead of us like always and I'll lose you. I can't survive that, Teresa. You know I can't."

She sighed, a weary, hopeless sound. "I'm not pregnant, Patrick. I'll prove it to you in the morning. We still have time."

He held her tightly against him, breathing in her scent and letting it comfort him. "Let's go back to bed," he suggested. "We can decide what to do in the morning."

She slid off his lap. "I'm not going to change my mind."

"I can be very persuasive." He winked at her as he got to his feet.

She tried to stifle a yawn and failed. "Well, I guess it'll be fun to let you try." She tucked her hand into his. "It'll take more than coffee and eggs Benedict though."

"Oh, Teresa, I have so much more than that up my sleeve," he promised, turning off the light as they left the room.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: **Groveling apologies for the late update! I was midwifing a website. It was a long, arduous birth with complications, too. Thanks for all of your reviews and favorites to remind me to make time for writing even when it seemed impossible! And on reading your various hopes for this chapter, I realized that no matter where this story went, it was going to disappoint some of you. I am very sorry for that, and I hope you find some redeeming qualities in this chapter!

**Chapter 42**

Lisbon woke for the second time that morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. Her first stop was the bathroom, where she found a towel still warm from the dryer and a pregnancy test on the counter. She rolled her eyes but decided to get the test over with, and when she went into the kitchen a few minutes later she waved the stick with the negative result in front of her husband's face.

Jane's poker face was second to none, so she looked in vain for any trace of relief or disappointment. She wondered what he would have said if the little stick had given them a different answer. She also wondered if he really was strong enough to be a single parent. If Red John had stuck to his pattern and only killed Angela, would Jane have ever embarked on his quest for vengeance, or would he have focused on rebuilding a normal life for Charlotte instead? Maybe even dated again, found her a stepmother?

"Eat up," Jane encouraged her. "It could be a long day."

"What do you think is next?" she asked, digging into her omelet.

"Mm." He sat across from her and sipped his tea, obviously having eaten earlier. "He'll definitely escalate, but it's hard to say how quickly. He's close to you, and he knows I know that. He'll take great glee in making me paranoid and possessive, which will have the added benefit of driving you nuts."

"So that's what you meant by it being a long day." At least her stomach had settled so she could face it without the added annoyance.

"I'm sure something new will come up as well. Having failed to frame me for Lorelei's murder, he'll try something else to make you doubt me." Jane tapped a finger against his teacup. "I wonder if it isn't time we started acting like you're pregnant."

"I thought you said that wasn't his goal anymore."

"All the more reason. It will tempt him to go back to his original plan, which will buy us time until we can lay our escape plans."

"Jane, I told you, I'm not dumping this into the others' laps. There's no telling what Red John would do. I'm not going to run away and leave them to face it alone. I'd never forgive myself."

"You would if you were pregnant."

"That's different." She took another bite, then frowned. "Is that why you've been so obsessed with the possibility? You think you need to knock me up to get me to safety?"

"The thought had occurred, although I am still opposed to bringing a child into the world while Red John is in it. A pretend child is another matter though." He took another sip of tea. "It would be natural for you to be in denial about it, given how you'll hate to give up fieldwork. And it would be equally natural for me to hover over you, monitor your caffeine intake, and redouble my efforts to eliminate junk food from your life."

"I'm not giving up coffee for a pretend baby," she warned.

"You will only have to cut back."

"Not if I'm in denial," she pointed out.

"Then I will let people see me secretly swapping out your usual high-octane brew for decaf."

Lisbon groaned. Leave it to Jane to come up with a plan that didn't require her to cooperate at all. "I can't function without coffee," she protested, in a last-ditch effort to stop this crazy scheme.

"I know. But pregnant women are expected to be tired and out of sorts. Caffeine withdrawal will simulate that nicely. No acting required." He looked very pleased with himself.

If her omelet hadn't been so delicious, Lisbon thought, he'd be wearing it about now.

mmm

When they got to work, Jane commandeered the table in Lisbon's office to work on his list and compare it to the one of the people in CBI during the bug sweep. After cross checking the lists for a couple of hours, he decided to put the rest of his plan in motion. "I'm going to run an errand," he announced to Lisbon, getting to his feet.

She was engrossed in some deathly dull reading, he surmised, because she only gave a vague "Mm hm" in response. He was actually in the doorway before her brain processed his words and she looked up. "Take Cho with you," she ordered.

"Of course." She didn't know it, but Cho was perfect for what he had in mind. He grinned as he went out to the bullpen to get started.

Half an hour later, they were back. Jane was carrying a brown paper bag, which oddly enough had been harder to get than what was inside, and Cho was smirking in a way that was invisible to anyone who didn't know him well.

Lisbon did, however, and she was immediately suspicious. She had come out to talk to Rigsby and Van Pelt to distract herself, Jane thought. Apparently the result of his last outing was still painfully fresh in her mind.

He treated them all to his biggest, most blinding smile. Lisbon started to smile back involuntarily before she caught herself, and he held the bag out to her.

She eyed it as if it might contain a dead mouse. Or bugs. "What is that?"

"Proof that I'm right." He didn't try to conceal his smugness.

"About?" She folded her arms, ignoring the bag. Her eyes were making dire promises of a woeful fate if he did what she thought he was about to do.

"Or, I suppose," he mused, "there's a remote possibility it may enable you to prove me wrong." She wouldn't be able to resist that.

Lisbon had definitely guessed what was in the bag, and she was already planning where to bury his body. If she couldn't find a pack of coyotes to feed his mangled corpse to, that is, he amended his thought. "Jane. That had better not be what I think it is. We are at work."

Chuckling, Jane winked at her. "Lisbon," he said in mock reproof, "you'll make Rigsby blush if you keep talking like you think I've bought you a kinky new sex toy."

Rigsby did blush, but his color was nothing compared to Lisbon's furiously red cheeks. "Jane!" she hissed.

He waggled the bag at her. "The sooner you get this over with, the less embarrassing it will be for everyone."

"I already went through this once today," she hissed. "Just because you didn't like the answer doesn't mean it was wrong."

"Who are you going to believe," he asked, "me or a stick?"

"Me _and_ the stick," she retorted.

They had quite an audience by now, which suited his purposes but meant that Lisbon was going to take her time killing him. If she didn't have an aneurysm once she saw what else was in the bag, that is.

"You," Lisbon growled, "are going to regret this. Deeply and for a long, long time." She snatched the bag out of his hand and stalked off, Grace hurrying to catch up.

Jane grinned and rubbed his hands together, while Cho shook his head and said, "You know when she comes back to kill you, none of us are going to stop her, right?"

"Watch and learn, my friend," Jane replied. "Watch and learn."

mmm

Lisbon went to a rarely used women's restroom for privacy, Van Pelt trailing in prudent silence. They not only checked for previous occupants, but also swept for bugs before locking the door and opening the bag. The pregnancy test was not a surprise, but the note was.

_Have Grace take it for you._

Lisbon and Van Pelt stared at each other in shock. Then Van Pelt cleared her throat. "Jane thinks that I'm..."

Lisbon turned the piece of paper over. _P.S. Grace, don't tell Rigsby until you get home and sweep for bugs. Congratulations! _"Apparently."

Van Pelt stared at the box with wide eyes, barely breathing. Then she gulped in a breath, grabbed it, and went into one of the stalls. When she came out again, there was a sheen to her eyes, and she wouldn't meet Lisbon's gaze.

As they waited for the stick's verdict, Lisbon thought about the mix of terror and barely acknowledged, conflicted longing she always felt when she was the one waiting for an answer. Van Pelt looked like she was mostly on the longing side, but then she wasn't being stalked by a serial killer. And if Lisbon was interpreting Jane's plan correctly, Van Pelt's pregnancy was going to remain a secret for a while, eclipsed by the very public fake pregnancy she herself was about to embark on.

Lisbon, by now an old hand at this, had set a timer on her phone. When it went off, Van Pelt jumped, then bit her lip. "I'm afraid to look," she admitted, her mouth twisting wryly.

Lisbon reached for the stick, but Van Pelt snatched it before she could. "No. I want—" She swallowed hard. "I want to know first."

"Go ahead." Lisbon fought back a smile. But she needn't have bothered, because Van Pelt's entire attention was on the stick.

She didn't have to ask what the verdict was; it was written all over the younger agent's face. Shock gave way to wonder and then to joy, and when Van Pelt finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

Lisbon couldn't help smiling back. "Congratulations."

Van Pelt dabbed at her eyes, smiling broadly. "Thanks, Boss."

Oh, this was ridiculous, Lisbon thought. If ever a hug was called for, it was now. She steeled herself and went for it, and Van Pelt clutched at her like a lifeline.

When Van Pelt finally let go and stepped back, she was frowning in thought. "So what's the plan? I give you this?"

Lisbon shook her head. "Throw it away." For some unfortunate disciple to dig out of some really nasty trash, she hoped.

"And then?"

"And then," Lisbon sighed, "we go out there and lie through our teeth."

mmm

"They've been gone a long time," Rigsby murmured, looking around worriedly.

"Not to worry," Jane grinned. "If I was wrong, Lisbon would be back by now to wave it in my face. Gone a long time means she's in there grinding her teeth and trying to figure out how to punish me for being right. It's a good thing."

Cho said, "You like getting punished. That explains a lot."

Rigsby did a spit take with his coffee while Jane continued grinning like a lunatic. His cheeks were just beginning to hurt when Lisbon stormed down the hall, shot him a death glare, and vanished into her office, snapping the blinds closed. Ah, perfect.

Grace followed soon after, smiling uncontrollably. She was so happy she seemed to light up the entire bullpen, but she didn't look around as she came straight to him and threw her arms around him. It was the most fierce hug he'd had from anyone but Lisbon in a long time. It was, he realized, the hug she wanted to give Rigsby but couldn't, because she had committed to the plan.

"Congratulations," she said, pulling back.

He smiled at her with absolute sincerity. "Thank you, Grace." He patted her shoulder, then flashed his toothy smile around indiscriminately, heading for his wife's office. A few steps later, he spun around, pointing at his friends. "Dinner at our place, seven o'clock. Don't be late!"

They all smiled back at him, even Cho. As Jane left the bullpen, he heard Cho say, "That's gonna be one scary kid."

Grace laughed. "You have no idea, Cho."

Jane pushed open the door to Lisbon's office and glanced around for incoming missiles. But she was bent over her paperwork, choosing to ignore him instead. He contemplated doing a little soft shoe routine, but decided to settle for a dramatic backwards leap onto the couch, facing her. He could see that she felt his smug grin from across the room but was making a valiant attempt to ignore it.

Normally, he would enjoy a little nap at this point, but his role of excited father-to-be called for something entirely different. "I think it would be appropriate for us to leave early for a strategy session."

"Oh? Pregnancy requires a strategy session?" she said tartly.

"Ours does. And everyone understands that," he pointed out. Then he added reflectively, "And they all do, to an extent. There's so much to decide. Which preschool waiting lists should we get on? Do we want to know the gender or be surprised? What theme shall we go with for the nursery? How far apart are we on potential names?"

"Victoria," Lisbon said, then looked surprised that she'd spoken aloud.

"Victoria Jane?" Jane mulled it over. "Hm. I like it. As long as you don't want Victor for a boy."

"No. But I want something traditional."

"But not named after anybody," Jane guessed. She nodded, biting her lip before going back to her paperwork.

Ah. Grace's happiness had affected her more than he'd anticipated. Perhaps it was the contrast between that and the disappointment she wouldn't admit to feeling every time the tests came out negative. And Lisbon was terribly competitive, after all.

He should do something to cheer her up. Coffee was now out of the question, of course. He found himself at a bit of a loss, and it was very early days yet. "What would you like for a push present?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "It's ridiculous to bribe me into something completely involuntary, Jane. After waddling around for months, I'm sure I'll be all too glad to get it out of me."

"Not 'it,' Teresa, please," he said, pained.

"We don't know the gender, so I can't use the correct pronoun," she pointed out.

"We could think of a fetus name," he grinned. "Like Tadpole."

A wadded up ball of paper bounced off his nose. "Go annoy someone else. Shouldn't you be strutting around like you invented the very idea of pregnancy?"

"My darling wife, I do not strut," he protested, sitting up. "But I will go enjoy myself at other people's expense until lunchtime if you prefer."

"I do prefer. And no bringing me organic vegan crap for lunch! I want a bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate shake."

"Getting a head start on the weight gain. Got it." He ducked out of the room just in time to avoid the stapler.

mmm

Mid-afternoon, Lisbon emerged from her office and snapped, "Jane, come with me."

He stopped pretending to sleep and got gracefully to his feet. "I will follow you anywhere," he declared, "but where in this specific instance?"

"To undo a great wrong," she replied, echoing his dramatic tone. Let him wonder for once.

"Ah. The estimable Rachel has agreed to work me into her busy schedule?" He rubbed a hand through his hair.

"She's dying to meet you," Lisbon said, leading the way to the elevator. She was less thrilled, since she was not immune to the impulse to chat to her hair stylist, and Jane had featured pretty prominently in the last few months. Or even years. But she had faith in Rachel's discretion and, more importantly, her skill with hair color.

Rachel was a pretty laid back person; since she was raising four kids, not much seemed to surprise her. She gave Jane a critical once-over as they were introduced, but it wasn't until Lisbon showed her a picture with his original hair color that she let out a gasp, looking again at the muddy brown curls. "Oh my God! Who did this to you? Teresa, I hope you arrested them!"

"Don't worry," Jane assured her. "The person in question will never dye again. Can you fix it?"

"Of course," she smiled. "You just leave it to me. I probably need a couple of hours, Teresa, if you want to come back."

"Thanks, but I never leave him unsupervised these days," Lisbon said. "I'm worried next time he'll come home with a tattoo."

Jane grinned. "If I do, it'll be your name. In a great big heart."

"I should make you get one that says 'If found, return to Teresa Lisbon.' Rachel, I'll just be over here." Lisbon gestured to the waiting area.

"Good," Jane said. "You shouldn't breathe whatever chemicals she'll be using. They can't be good for the baby."

Lisbon endured the hugging, the exclamations, and the questions with as much grace as she could muster, grateful beyond words when her phone rang.

mmm

Jane and Rachel got along just fine, since they had babies to talk about. Lisbon spent her time trying to get some work done, talking on the phone or emailing. Jane was the best actor she'd ever known, so there was really no need to think about how happy he seemed, or take him seriously when he admitted to wanting a boy. But she couldn't help wondering if he really could be happy with just her. Once Red John was out of the picture, they would try for a baby, she decided. She wanted to see him this happy and know it was real. She just hoped she would be as happy as Van Pelt was.

And there was a nice little nightmare. Lisbon wouldn't be able to ignore her agents' rekindled romance forever. She desperately hoped they would make plans before she had to get involved, but her heart ached when she wondered which of them she would lose. And finding a new team member who could put up with Jane and whom they could be absolutely sure wasn't a Red John plant would be next to impossible. Just thinking about it gave her a headache, and she closed her eyes.

"Hey," Jane's voice roused her out of her half-doze. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

She opened her eyes and smiled. Rachel might have made him a little blonder than before, but she had no objection to that. "You're done?"

"I paid the bill and everything. Let's go. We're having guests tonight, and I want to cook you the dinner of a lifetime." He gave her the blinding smile. It really did work much better with the blond hair, she realized. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to undo the dye job. But no, she had needed to erase all traces of Lorelei from him, for her own piece of mind.

Van Pelt met them at the apartment under the pretext of bringing some files, but she was bursting with the need to talk. Lisbon could only imagine what it must be like to have to keep such a huge secret from her lover, while they were in the same room. It wasn't something she would have to deal with, since Jane was sure he'd know before she did. He might even be right. She'd had no idea about Van Pelt, who apparently hadn't either.

"When Rigsby gets here, you can use the den," Lisbon said after they finished the sweep.

"Thanks. You won't tell Cho, will you? I want to see his face," Van Pelt said.

"We won't tell him, then. Grace, I know this is a sacrifice, and I appreciate it."

"It's too early to tell anybody yet anyway. Even my family. But we can't keep this up for very long." She frowned. "Does Jane really think this will smoke out Red John?"

"That's the hope." Lisbon paused, then said, "In the field, we stay together, and under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near the line of fire. We won't risk you getting hurt. Or giving Rigsby a heart attack. Understood?"

"Of course, Boss."

"And I don't officially know about this. But I expect you two to decide how you want to handle it when it isn't a secret anymore."

"Right." Van Pelt looked sad for a moment, then smiled again. "I don't think two parents should be on the same team anyway, even if we could get away with it. Don't worry, Boss; we'll figure it out before you get in trouble for it."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Lisbon assured her.

When Cho and Rigsby arrived, Lisbon distracted Cho by demanding a report on their latest case while Van Pelt dragged Rigsby into the den and closed the door. Jane wandered out of the kitchen, wearing an apron with interesting splatters, and waited with ill-concealed glee.

When Cho finished his report, he turned in his chair to look at Jane. "So what's next? You wouldn't have made sure everyone knows unless you have a plan. You running?"

"No," Lisbon said, as Jane said, "Yes."

Cho looked from one to the other, then said, "You should."

Jane nodded. "And we want him to think we're planning to, soon. We have to push him into action before he has time to think about it too much."

"Who says he hasn't already? He's been telling you to have a baby since your wedding. He's had tons of time to think."

"That was before he became obsessed with Lisbon. His old plan was to kill her. That's not on the table anymore. Now he wants her alive, which is much harder. " Jane took a seat on the sofa beside Lisbon. "And taking care of a pregnant woman requires specific arrangements."

"What if he doesn't want her until after she has the baby?"

"No, he'll want her as soon as possible. He won't take the chance that the baby will bring us closer. He'll want to go through all those firsts with her, not watch me do it."

Lisbon suppressed a shudder. "So you think he'll want to kidnap me and hold me until the birth? That long? With me trying to escape every day?"

"He might wait a little while, but not long," Jane predicted. "And you wouldn't risk the baby to escape. He'll use that. And of course he'll be working on you the whole time. He knows you're susceptible to charm, after all."

She scowled at him, but he was making sense. She was fiercely grateful she wasn't pregnant. If she found herself in Red John's hands, that would be her biggest advantage.

Rigsby and Van Pelt emerged, glowing, rumpled, and holding hands. "We're pregnant!" they chorused.

Cho folded his arms. "I figured."

Van Pelt and Jane looked skeptical, while Rigsby was crestfallen and Lisbon amused. Cho said, "Come on. If Lisbon was really pregnant, we'd never know. You'd just disappear. And Van Pelt is way too excited to just be a godmother."

"Just for that," Van Pelt grinned, "we'll make Jane the godfather instead of you."

"Good. Let him buy the expensive presents," Cho said, but the smile tugging at his mouth was obvious.

"I accept," Jane said. "After all, I am partly responsible."

"I beg your pardon?" Rigsby demanded.

"Obviously I lifted one too many condoms out of your pocket," Jane explained. "I take it Grace has explained the plan?"

"Yeah, but do you think it will really work? I mean, what doctor is going to go along with this?" Rigsby wondered.

"You leave that to me," Lisbon said. She had already pondered the story she would tell her doctor. She tried not to think of the mess of deception and downright fraud her life was about to become. But really, she'd known that was inevitable when she'd married Jane. Maybe even before that.

"Now," Jane said, "we enjoy our celebratory dinner. Then we'll talk about how we leave an irresistible opening for Red John, something he'll never suspect is a trap." He grinned. "And baby names."

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to little Victoria Jane [last name redacted], who is the star of my email inbox, as well as having an irresistible name!


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter, and for your patience waiting for this one. Real Life Syndrome can be nasty! Plus my muse dislikes stress, so she gave me this chapter very grudgingly. Things will start moving again soon though! The revelation of the suspect list helped clarify my thinking about Red John, though I'm sure whatever I decide on, the show's brilliant writers will come up with something far better. But since we have to wait for that, I can guess with impunity for now. :)

**Chapter 43**

It was late by the time the others left; there had been a great deal of arguing about the plan, followed by a condescending lecture from Jane about the necessity for them all to keep up the act and the best ways to do that. He'd succeeded in turning Rigsby's and Van Pelt's happy glow into vague disgruntlement by the time they left, and he'd made Cho roll his eyes at least twice. Lisbon dealt with her own annoyance by not helping clean up afterward, deciding she deserved a nice hot bubble bath behind a locked door instead.

When she emerged nearly an hour later, she was more sleepy than annoyed. Jane was still fully dressed, sitting in one of the wingback chairs reading. He seemed unperturbed at her having locked him out, but she had no doubt that if he'd really wanted in, he'd have picked the lock.

"I'm going to sleep. If you're going to stay up, go in the other room," she said as she went past him to the bed.

"No," he said, putting the book down on the little table nearby, "just waiting my turn."

Lisbon crawled into bed as he went into the bathroom, listening to the familiar sounds of his nighttime routine. She thought about making him sleep elsewhere, but she didn't have the energy for the argument, and she preferred knowing where he was anyway. She settled for turning her back to him as he turned off the light and slid into bed.

Being Jane, he didn't take the hint, though she was sure he knew perfectly well what she was trying to communicate. Spooning up behind her, he rested his hand in the curve of her waist and nuzzled behind her ear.

"Good night, Jane," she said firmly.

"Hm. It's been a while since you used my last name in bed," he murmured, burying his nose in her hair. "I know I can't stop you from bringing work home, but can't we at least keep it out of bed?"

"If you would keep home out of the office, it might work better," she replied, stopping his hand as it moved to caress her hip, sliding toward the hem of her jersey. "You bullied me into taking a pregnancy test in the bullpen, for God's sake. What makes you think we are ever having sex again?"

"I didn't bully you into taking a pregnancy test, and most certainly not in the bullpen. That would not have achieved my aim at all. I created a situation that would make it appear as though I convinced you to take a pregnancy test and receive a positive result, all in view of enough people that the story will surely make its way to Red John. Everything I did was to keep you safe."

"And you didn't share your plan with me ahead of time because?"

"Teresa, I love you dearly, but your acting skills are uneven at best. And if I'd told you Grace was pregnant, you wouldn't have gone along with it."

"For some reason I thought once you'd vowed to love, honor, and cherish me, you'd stop lying, tricking, and manipulating me, or at least recognize that those actions require you to ask for and actually earn forgiveness."

"If I ask for your forgiveness now, you'll refuse on the grounds that I'm only doing it because you told me to, despite the fact that you frequently complain I never do as I'm told," Jane said calmly. "I will, however, show my contrition in the morning by buying you a coffee so sweet that it will make your teeth hurt, completely disguising its non-caffeinated nature."

"Keep it up, and you may not survive this fake pregnancy," she grumbled.

"Meh. It will be a short one in any case," he said. "Grace won't be able to keep the secret, much less Rigsby. And if you keep refusing to act even a little happy about it—"

"Won't Red John be happy I'm not happy? He wants to think he's rescuing me, right?" she pointed out. "Besides, I think you just cheated on me, remember? Why would I be happy about getting stuck on desk duty because I'm facing parenthood with a man I can't trust?"

"Because you're still in love with me, despite my serious flaws, and my happiness pleases you."

"But I refuse to let you know that because I'm still angry," she said. "It makes perfect sense."

Jane let out a long sigh, ruffling her hair. "I suppose he must know how stubborn you are by now. Very well. We will play this your way. I suppose it's unrealistic to expect you to display any forgiveness before the next poker game."

"Completely unrealistic," she agreed.

Jane propped himself up on one elbow so he could kiss her cheek, using his free hand to smooth her hair. "But here, when it's just the two of us, I would like you to acknowledge that I did not in fact cheat on you, and that I am making every effort to ensure your safety, even knowing I will suffer from your annoyance with me."

"Fine. I know you didn't cheat, and I know you're trying to help, in your usual jackass fashion," she sighed.

"And no matter how careful we are, this will still be very dangerous. One or both of us may get hurt or worse." He paused. "I don't want to waste what might be our last nights together."

Lisbon sighed. "That is by far the worst line I have ever heard."

He chuckled into her ear. "Okay. How about this: I cleaned out Rigsby's pockets tonight. He doesn't need condoms anymore, after all."

"You're lucky he doesn't punch you for getting him into this situation in the first place."

"Nonsense. He's happy as a clam."

"He might not stay that way once he and Grace start negotiating over who has to leave the unit."

"Meh. There's no sacrifice too great when it comes to building a family."

Lisbon pondered that for a moment. Then she asked, "How long have you known Grace was pregnant?"

"I only noticed yesterday morning. I was trying to decide if you were pregnant, so I was watching you very closely. Then I saw you both walking down the hall and noticed her gait was slightly different. She isn't very far along, I take it."

"She thinks it can't be more than six weeks," Lisbon agreed. "I guess we'll know more exactly when we see my doctor day after tomorrow."

Jane planted another kiss on her neck. "I wish I could go."

"You know you can't. I need an excuse to take Grace into the exam room. That wouldn't make sense if you were there. I'll send you off somewhere with the guys. It fits nicely with my still being angry."

"But it's highly unlikely I would just give in," he pointed out.

"You are trying to appease me," she said. "Feel free to hover as obnoxiously as you like after."

"Thank you. I will." He gave her shoulder a kiss, then settled himself on his pillow. "And I am sorry you felt embarrassed. It was unavoidable but regrettable."

"Oh, right," she snorted. "You enjoyed every minute of it."

"Will it help if I promise that if we ever do find ourselves expecting a child, I will leave all the announcements to you?"

She hummed sleepily. "Yes."

"Then I promise. And I love you."

"I love you too," she said, reaching for his hand and weaving her fingers through his.

mmm

The appointment went as well as could be expected, given that Lisbon had to do some fast talking to convince her doctor that the secret of who was actually pregnant was part of an undercover operation to trap a vicious criminal. At least it was all true.

The argument she had to have with Jane afterward about going without him was even less enjoyable. But she ended it by taking him out for lunch, so the day wasn't a total loss. And by unspoken agreement, they left work at the office and enjoyed their night, falling into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of the morning still tangled together.

As Thursday approached, Lisbon got increasingly nervous. Their plan was based on the one thing she still insisted on doing without any of the team present: the poker game. It made sense to create an opening for Red John where she was already most vulnerable. Though the plan was as solid as they could make it, no one really liked it. And she was terrified that Jane had a surprise up his sleeve he wasn't letting them in on.

So they were all a little on edge when Stan Moore stopped by Thursday afternoon. Lisbon heard Jane intercept him just outside Lisbon's office, greeting him cheerfully. "Stan! Nice of you to stop by. Can I get you some tea? I was just brewing a pot of jasmine green for my lovely wife."

Lisbon rolled her eyes as Stan said, "Sure, sounds great." He then knocked on her open door. "Agent Lisbon, do you have a moment?"

"Come on in," she invited. She still wasn't sure she liked him, but he had squelched the attempt to blame Jane for Lorelei's murder, so she was willing to be cordial. "Any luck on the Lorelei Martins case?"

"No, unfortunately," he said, taking a seat in front of her desk. "I just wanted to stop by and congratulate you."

"Oh?" Belatedly, she remembered why he thought she should be congratulated. "Thanks."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Still in shock?"

"Yeah," she smiled back. "But it's a good shock."

Jane came in with the tea tray, fussing about until they each had a steaming cup. "No congratulations for me, Stan?"

"Congratulations," Moore smiled. "You're not in shock, I see."

"I'm delirious with joy," Jane said, sipping his tea. "It's a little easier for me, however. I won't be the one throwing up for weeks on end and fretting about not being allowed to tackle criminals twice my size."

Lisbon said, "Ha, ha. I have never tackled anyone twice my size, I'll have you know. And I plan to spread the pain by sending you out on complicated shopping trips in the middle of the night to satisfy my weird cravings."

Jane grinned. "I look forward to it. Though I resist the idea that any child of mine would ever crave anything 'weird.' You, on the other hand, frequently eat things I find distressing."

"Just wait," Lisbon threatened. "I'll show you distressing."

Moore chuckled. "It's always nice to be reminded that not all married people are miserable. With my colleagues, it can be easy to forget that." Then he gave Lisbon a serious look, gestured in a circular motion with one finger, and mouthed, "Secure?"

She shook her head; the last bug sweep had been before the pregnancy test. They'd been out on cases and busy ever since, using the excuse to provide misinformation to their enemies.

Moore nodded in understanding. "You have more reason to celebrate than most. Now that you've done what Red John wants, you should be safe, at least for the near future."

Lisbon nodded. "I hope so. Does that mean you're going to stop your surveillance?"

"Not altogether," he assured her. "But budgets are tight, you know. And my bosses aren't big fans of long-term expenses. Still, I'm only a phone call away, day or night. And your people are keeping an eye out, right?"

"Of course," Lisbon replied. "But I can take care of myself, you know."

"Of course," he agreed. "Especially now that you have even more reason to be careful. When are you due?"

"January," Jane put in. "Plenty of time for us to feather the nest, as it were. And for the honeymoon we didn't get to take. But it's now or never, so at last I get to whisk my wife off to a tropical beach for a couple of weeks."

Moore smiled. "I hope you'll have a great time. Anyplace in mind?"

"I was thinking Mykonos, but Teresa prefers Maui," Jane said. "We're still negotiating."

"Either one sounds great. At this point, I'd be thrilled with even a staycation," Moore admitted. He finished his tea and stood. "I'd better get back to it. If I don't talk to you before you leave, have a great trip."

"We'll send you a postcard," Jane promised. He got up to close the door as Moore left, then came to sit in front of Lisbon's desk.

"What was that about?" she wondered.

"I think someone noticed what I've been doing with the money," Jane replied. "Our honeymoon budget is far too large to come out of our household account, after all. I've been cashing out some of our investments. Interesting that the FBI is watching that."

Lisbon knew Jane was really stockpiling cash in case they had to run, despite her objections. The whole honeymoon story was merely a cover, though she wouldn't mind making it a reality once Red John was out of the picture. "Yes. I don't mind them following us around, I guess, but watching our accounts seems a little over the top." She doubted that was Moore's idea. It seemed more likely one of Red John's moles had brought it to his attention.

"Shall we lodge a formal protest?" Jane asked.

"It won't do any good," she replied. She was pleased the plan was working; they were counting on Red John not believing the honeymoon story and feeling compelled to take action before they could run. "But if it will get you out of my hair so I can finish this report and get to the game on time, feel free."

Jane frowned. "I thought we talked about this. It's too risky, Teresa. You have more than yourself to think about now."

"I'm aware. But really, Jane, you can't expect me to give up one of the few things I enjoy just because I'm pregnant. A poker game is not going to endanger the baby. And don't think I don't know you've talked the others into tailing me. I'll be perfectly fine."

"I don't see why I can't go with you," Jane complained.

"Oh really? You don't see any reason I wouldn't want you to cheat a bunch of bigwigs out of their money, all while gloating about it and insulting them? Well, I guess that is pretty hard to understand," she snarked. "It's not like some of them could fire me or anything. Oh wait!" She pretended to remember something. "They can. Gee, Jane, maybe that's why."

He kept his grin under wraps, but his eyes twinkled at her. "Lisbon, give me a little credit. I wouldn't need to cheat against that bunch."

"You'd still do the gloating and insulting. Anyway, I need a break from you. Go home, eat dinner, and find some way to entertain yourself until I'm done." She went back to her work.

Jane wasn't giving up that easily, though. "At least take Cho. With a poker face like that, he has to be pretty good. And he will neither gloat nor insult anyone. At least not within their hearing."

"I'll be fine, Jane," she said, exasperated. "Cho has a thing with the rapid response team tonight. Rigsby's got Ben, and Van Pelt isn't much of a gambler, as you know. I don't need a bodyguard to play poker. I'll text you when I'm leaving, as usual."

"I will drop you off and pick you up at 10:30," Jane insisted.

"You'll do no such thing," she snapped. "I'm not helpless, and I don't need a curfew. I'll text you when I'm leaving. Now go make yourself useful, or else go home. I have work to do."

Jane gathered up the tea tray and left. But she was sure he'd be back.

mmm

Jane spent the rest of the day trying to think of all the things that could go wrong and what to do in each case. Putting Lisbon out as bait was the last thing he wanted to do, but since Red John was targeting her, it was far safer to draw him out on their terms than wait for him to put his own plan in motion.

He still hated it. If it were up to him, he'd whisk her off to some remote corner of the world that Red John had never heard of. In fact, he'd thought of three brilliant plans to do just that. But it wouldn't do any good, because Lisbon would just come right back to protect her team. The whole thing would just be a waste of a good plan and a great deal of money, not to mention causing a serious fight between them. That was absolutely the last thing they needed.

He pretended not to notice when she snuck out while he was brewing a cup of tea, reassured when Grace left immediately afterward. He drank his tea, then went to discover that Lisbon's office was empty. He then stormed out to his car and drove to the restaurant where the poker game was held.

A few minutes later, his phone beeped with a text. _Stop stalking me and go home._

_Who's in there? _he responded.

_Bertram, Manchester, Dawkins, and some guy from the DA's office named Schuster. Go home!_

_Text me before you leave. And be careful._

_I'm always careful. Unlike you. Don't get a ticket on your way home._

_Love you,_ he replied, because although they were supposed to be on the outs, he wanted to make sure she remembered that.

Her response took a little while to arrive, but it made him smile. _You too. See you at home._

With everything in him, he hoped so.

mmm

Two hours later, he was pacing the apartment, debating whether to try texting his wife or just drive back down there. The plan called for the former, but his anxiety level made the latter more attractive, despite the fact that Lisbon would justifiably want to strangle him for improvising. Then again, they'd known each other long enough that she was probably expecting it.

His phone beeped just as he was opening the door. _Leaving now. You better be home when I get there._

He grinned and texted back, _Ready with chocolate and a foot rub._

_Don't get your hopes up._

That was it. Now he was back to pacing, waiting for the string of mishaps that, to anyone watching, would make it look like Lisbon was accidentally without her safety net. Grace, who was parked outside the restaurant, would suffer a flat tire not two blocks away. Cho wouldn't answer his phone, and Rigsby would say he needed to find a sitter but would be there as soon as he could. Which wouldn't be fast enough, so Grace would be forced to call him. Any minute now.

Any minute now.

Now.

What was taking so long? Had Cho done too good a job on Grace's tire, causing her to crash? Or had Red John planned to act tonight all along? What was happening?

He was just opening his phone to dial Lisbon when it rang. "Grace?"

"Jane, I got a flat, and nobody's close," she said breathlessly. "Can you meet her along the way?"

"I'm on my way," he replied, snapping his phone shut and heading for the door.

He called Lisbon once he was out of the elevator. It took her an eternity to answer. "What, Jane?"

"You lost your tail," he said. "I'm on my way. Don't stop anywhere."

"I was going to pick up some ice cream," she replied. "I'm craving pistachio. Can you meet me at the store?"

"Yes. Go inside and stay in sight of the security cameras," he told her.

"Oh, stop worrying," she sighed. "I'll be careful. I am armed, you know. See you there. And don't drive like a maniac!"

Jane ignored her instructions, since it would have been ridiculously out of character to follow them. But he didn't drive quite as fast as he could have, wanting to give Red John time to take advantage of the opportunity, confident that Cho was at the store waiting out of sight.

He didn't so much park his car as leave it in the general vicinity of a parking space, running into the store and heading straight for the frozen dessert aisle. It was empty, and he was seized with a moment's panic at the thought that the plan was working and Lisbon was being delivered to Red John, leading them right to him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to dissipate the adrenaline rush, and turned to go find the store manager to harass.

Before he got ten feet, he heard his name being called and spun to find Lisbon in the snack aisle, a box of popcorn in one hand and a small basket with two pints of ice cream in the other. "That was fast," she said.

He experienced a weird mixture of relief and disappointment, but he didn't hesitate, striding down the aisle to take her shoulders and kiss her soundly. She let out a startled squeak before relaxing into the kiss.

When it was over, he stepped back, took the basket from her, and tossed the box of low-calorie, no butter popcorn in it. Then he reached for the box of movie-style popcorn that she really wanted, adding it to the basket as well. "Anything else?" He smiled. "Swedish fish? Milano cookies?"

She made a face at him; he normally tried to steer her away from her guilty pleasures. "This is fine, thanks."

"Then let's go home." He headed for the checkout line, where they argued about whether Jane would drive Lisbon home or merely follow her. Lisbon won, so Jane had to content himself with following her closely.

Rigsby and Grace were waiting in the lobby when they arrived, and Cho joined them upstairs shortly after they finished sweeping for bugs. "So," he said. "That didn't work."

"No," Jane agreed, tapping a finger against his lips. "He resisted the temptation. Obviously we failed to convince him that our flight is imminent. I guess I'll have to be more obvious."

Lisbon suppressed a sigh. "Go home and get some rest," she instructed. "We'll come up with something else tomorrow."

When they were gone, Jane said, "He didn't change his plans because he's confident we can't stop him. We should go, Teresa."

"We've been over this." Lisbon went into the kitchen and popped the lid off the pint of pistachio ice cream, then opened a drawer to grab a spoon. "You're not going to change my mind. They're my team, so they're my responsibility. I'm not going to run out on them. Especially now."

Jane knew his argument was basically a selfish one, but he decided to give it one more try. "You don't want to leave them to face something terrible. I get that. I do." He bit his lip, then fixed her with his most pleading gaze. "But think about the terrible thing you're asking me to face alone. And I'm the broken one, Teresa. They're strong, and they have each other. If I lose you, I have nothing."

She swallowed her bite of ice cream, her eyes soft with concern. "Patrick. You're not going to lose me."

"He's confident, Teresa. Enough to pass up a golden opportunity to take you. That should worry you, because I'm telling you, it terrifies me." He stepped closer. "Come with me, somewhere safe. I know you have responsibilities to the others, but don't you have a responsibility to me?"

She sighed. "Yes, of course." She offered him a spoonful of ice cream, which he accepted, never breaking eye contact. When he swallowed, she asked softly, "What's the plan?"

"A honeymoon overseas, preferably someplace with easily bribed officials. A tragic accident of some kind. It'll be harder for him to verify that way. And we don't have time to wait for suitable corpses."

She grimaced. "If he has doubts, he'll test us by killing someone we care about."

"Then we have to make sure he has no doubts." Jane knew she wasn't convinced, but he was confident he would come up with a brilliant plan.

"How much time would I have to wrap things up?"

He shook his head. "You can't, at least not more than you would for a normal vacation. You can't tip anyone off, even the team. They have to believe the story too." Her eyes widened, and he added, "For their own protection."

"I can't do that," she said. "Not to them, and not to my family."

He couldn't quite keep his anger out of his voice. "So you'd rather destroy me than upset them."

"He's not going to get me, Patrick. I'll be careful."

"Of course you'll be careful. But it won't be a damn bit of use. We could be surrounded by his disciples every day. We could pass him in the hall all the time with a smile and a nod. You are in danger every second that he knows where you are, and you will be until one of you is dead." He felt his self-control slipping and moved toward the door. But he couldn't resist a parting shot. "I understand not wanting to have an innocent's blood on your hands, Teresa. But what I don't and will never understand is how you can choose to have mine instead."

mmm

It was a long time before Lisbon composed herself enough to follow him into the bedroom. She found him sitting in one of the chairs, a book unopened in his lap. He met her gaze as she stood in the doorway and said, "I shouldn't have said that to you. I'm sorry."

She took a moment to process that. Jane rarely apologized, but what he had said was less important than what he was feeling. "Don't apologize for being honest."

She hoped he would say he'd exaggerated in the heat of the moment, or explain it away somehow. But instead he said, "I knew from the beginning that I was the one at risk in our relationship, because I love you more than you love me."

"That's not fair," she snapped.

"Isn't it? I chose you, Teresa, above everything I thought was important in my life. I didn't hesitate; I didn't think about my other obligations. I sold the house and took off my ring and basically turned my back on the man I had become over the last nine years. It wasn't easy and it wasn't pretty, but I did it. Because that's what I had to do to save you. And I had to save you—that's where the selfishness comes in, because I had to save you for my own sake. But you will only save me for my sake, not for yours. And you won't give up anything to do it. Because in the end, you know you don't need me."

"I think lasting relationships should be based on choice, not need," she retorted. "And I chose to be with you. I continue to choose that every day. Don't you dare tell me I don't love you just because I won't run from a serial killer it's my job to catch."

"I didn't say that," he pointed out. "But I would do anything to protect you. I don't understand why you won't do the same. You know I can't survive him taking you."

"Maybe I think you're stronger than you think. And I don't think running makes us safer. What if Visualize really is his power base? They're global. Where could we go that they don't reach? Where we wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb? Do you really think we could keep our heads down indefinitely without going stir crazy? Because I don't. We're safer here, where we have support and we know the environment. And where you have people who care about you to help you if the worst happens."

She was glad to see him think her argument through, though she knew he'd reject the last part. He might eventually see the sense of her position, but not right now. She was tired and frustrated, and he was too. They needed to table this. But she had one more thing to get off her chest. "And you have some nerve accusing me of not loving you as much as you love me. For years—_years_—I did everything I could to help you and take care of you, while you did your very best to be a cold-hearted, insensitive jerk at all times."

"To protect you," he snapped.

"You want to protect me? Then think of some way to catch Red John!"

"I'm trying!"

He was nearly shouting, a sure indication that his vaunted self-control had deserted him. She knew this conversation had ceased to be helpful, so she took a deep breath and said, "We're both tired. Let's just go to bed and talk in the morning."

He got to his feet. "Fine. You sleep. I have some thinking to do." He pushed past her and went into the den.

Her mother had always told her never to go to bed angry, but unless they calmed down, they weren't going to kiss and make up. With a frustrated sigh, she went into the bathroom, resolving to get some rest even if her stubborn husband wouldn't.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note: **Many groveling apologies for the time it took me to update. I had a long business trip followed by a family visit, during which I foolishly thought I would find plenty of time to write. I promise the next chapter won't take two weeks! Thanks for hanging in there!

**Chapter 44**

Lisbon woke to darkness, an empty bed, and a ringing phone. She grabbed her cell and switched on the bedside lamp. "Lisbon."

"Boss," came Cho's voice. "You need to get to Rigsby's place. Van Pelt shot someone in Ben's room. He had a knife."

Lisbon sucked in a shocked breath. "God. Are they okay?"

"Yeah, just freaked out. Need me to pick you up?"

"No, Jane and I will be there as soon as we can." Lisbon hung up and slid out of bed, noticing the light in the hallway. The clock read three a.m., and she could see the light on in the den, which meant Jane wasn't getting any sleep at all tonight.

He was still dressed, sitting at the desk staring out the window, and didn't turn around as she reached the doorway. "Who's dead this time?" he asked, not bothering to hide his weariness.

"A man who broke into Ben's room with a knife," she replied.

Jane was on his feet instantly. He washed his face while she hurriedly dressed, and they drove to Rigsby's place without speaking much. Lisbon guessed Jane was thinking the same thing she was: this was a warning from Red John about what he would do if they ran. But he wouldn't want to admit it, at least not until they were absolutely sure it wasn't something else.

There were several police cars in the street, but at least this time of night there weren't any gawkers—or press. Yet. Lisbon shuddered at the thought of the media finding out that a killer had targeted a toddler as a message to her and her husband.

As they climbed the stairs to the front door, Jane's hand landed in the small of her back. The familiar touch was reassuring, but when she glanced at his face, she realized he'd done it unconsciously, out of habit. His mind was busy taking in the scene around them, gathering clues and forming theories. That was what she needed him to do, so she turned her attention to her team.

Rigsby was sitting on the couch in the living room with a wailing Ben in his arms, looking shell shocked. Van Pelt stood nearby talking to Cho and a uniformed cop, her posture rigid. Lisbon could hear more voices upstairs, presumably in Ben's room. She would need to go see the scene, but first things first.

Sitting down beside Rigsby, she rubbed a hand on Ben's back and said gently, "Rigs, you okay?"

"We're not hurt." His tone was distant, detached. Then he hugged Ben a little tighter and repeated it, as if to reassure himself. "We're not hurt."

"Good." She squeezed his shoulder, then laid a hand on Ben's head before standing and moving a few steps to where Cho and Van Pelt were waiting. "Grace, you okay?"

"Yeah. Something woke me up, so I decided to check on Ben and get some water. Thank God I didn't just go back to sleep." Her voice shook. "I told him to drop the knife, but he took a step toward me. So I fired."

"You had your gun in your bedroom?" Lisbon asked, a little surprised.

Van Pelt looked at her like she was crazy. "Yeah, I always keep it in reach since Red John started threatening you. In case he tries to use one of us as bait."

Lisbon's heart clenched as she looked around at her team. Aside from the unofficial overtime they'd put in following her around, she hadn't given much thought to how her team had been affected by Red John's threats. She realized with a rush of shame and guilt that her focus on Jane had kept her from seeing other serious effects of the serial killer's obsession.

Cho said, "Three shots to the chest, nice and clean. No ID on him. No gun, just the knife. This was a suicide mission."

Lisbon nodded. Nobody could expect to break into a home with two cops, threaten a child, and expect to get away. Not unless he'd been lucky enough to kill them in their sleep first, and he'd gone straight for Ben. "It's a message."

Cho nodded. "Yeah."

Van Pelt frowned. "Saying what?"

Lisbon looked at her agent closely. Van Pelt was doing a good job of holding it in, but she was clearly on the edge of tears at the thought of what had nearly happened to the child they all loved. "Sit down, Grace. Has anybody called Sarah?"

Cho shook his head, then turned to Rigsby. "Hey. You want to call Sarah, or do you want me to?"

Rigsby paled a little, but he swallowed and said, "I'll do it. If you call, she'll panic." He looked at Lisbon. "Boss, can we get some protection for her? And Ben? I don't—I don't think he should be with me right now. Not until this is over."

Cho spoke before Lisbon had a chance. "Don't be stupid. The only reason he's alive right now is because he has an armed bodyguard living in. If Sarah wants to take him, she better be prepared to go to a safe house. And even that might not be safe."

"I agree," Lisbon said. "We can't hide from Red John. Not for long, anyway. He has eyes and ears all over the place. But I don't think he'll come after Ben again. This was meant to make Jane and I understand what would happen if we ran. In case we hadn't figured it out."

She braced herself for accusatory looks that never came. Van Pelt merely nodded, while Rigsby looked hopeful. "He doesn't want to kill him?"

Cho said, "Red John doesn't _try_ to kill people. And even an idiot would have known he had to take you out of action before going for the kid. This was some idiot Red John thought was disposable."

"I agree," Lisbon said. She looked around for Jane to get his opinion, but he wasn't in the room.

Cho nodded toward the stairs. "Up there."

"Thanks." Lisbon followed the sounds of photography and found herself in Ben's room. The intruder was sprawled on his back just inside the door; Van Pelt had been lucky the crib wasn't in the line of fire or this would have turned into a standoff.

Jane was standing in the corner, staring at the crib and ignoring the corpse and the crime scene techs. Lisbon wasn't sure if that was because he deemed them uninteresting or because there was evidence she wasn't seeing on the crib. "Jane?"

He didn't turn to look at her. "He was definitely sent by Red John."

"How can you tell?" she asked, looking around again to try spotting what he was seeing that she wasn't. There was still a slim hope this had been a random break-in, perhaps by someone high on drugs.

"The knife." He held up an evidence bag with the knife in it, still not turning around. "And that."

She stepped closer, following his pointing finger to the mess of blankets in the crib where either Van Pelt or Rigsby had snatched up Ben after the shooting. Grabbing gloves out of her pocket, she reached down and pulled out the white baby blanket with the red smiley face embroidered on it. "Oh, crap."

"Yeah." Jane handed her the evidence bag, finally glancing at her. "Are Rigsby and Grace okay?"

"They will be. Nobody's hurt," she said. And then, because she didn't like the expression on his face, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"This was a message."

"Yeah, we already figured that out," she replied a little impatiently. "A warning of what he'll do if we run."

He turned to face her, looking intently at her. "Yes. Partly."

"Partly?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"If you search him, you'll find something else. Something meant for Grace. He was told to mark them, so I'd know that he can do to Rigsby what he did to me. To remind me of how it felt as I watch Rigsby imagine what could have happened."

Lisbon swallowed hard. "To frighten all of us, but especially you and me. That's why he didn't try to take me earlier. He wants to keep us where we are, knowing he can strike anytime."

Jane nodded. "He wants us afraid, so he can savor our fear. This is just a more elaborate smiley face, in a way. Or a note on the door." He paused. "I have to say, it's working."

Lisbon grimaced. "So what do we do now? Ship half the team and a baby off to a safe house that may be compromised?"

Jane shook his head. "Send Ben with his mother. We need Rigsby and Grace here. Sarah and Ben will be safe; he won't come after them unless we do something to make him angry."

"You're sure? Because we can't take chances with Ben's life."

Jane snapped, "I have never intentionally endangered a child, Lisbon." He gestured around the room. "When you look at this, you see a close call. But I see what he meant me to see. I see the smiley on the wall, the blood on the blankets. I can _smell_ it. I can hear Rigsby screaming in horror and denial. I have lived this before."

Lisbon stepped closer to him, ignoring the techs and the photographer to reach for him. But he went still, letting her know that he didn't want to be touched, so she let her hand drop. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

He turned abruptly and left the room.

Lisbon took a moment to compose herself before going back to the living room. For the next half hour, she wrangled the coroner and crime scene techs. When Sarah arrived, she tried to give her and Rigsby and Ben some space, routing personnel away from them. She caught glimpses of Jane every now and then, lost in his thoughts. At least, she hoped they were his thoughts rather than his worst memories.

Inevitably, an argument broke out in the bedroom where Rigsby and Sarah had gone to talk in relative privacy, followed by Ben's voice sounding fretful. Lisbon squared her shoulders and stuck her head in the door. "Sorry," she interrupted. "Would it help if I took him for a minute?"

Rigsby looked slightly less harassed, while Sarah just looked annoyed. But as Ben's whining became more like sobs, Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. "Just until I calm down, yes, thank you, Teresa."

Lisbon smiled reassuringly as she reached for Ben. He clung to his mother for a moment, but then gave in to Lisbon's gentle coaxing and let her carry him out of the room. He was even happier when she took him downstairs to Jane, stretching out his arms eagerly for his favorite playmate.

"Take him for a minute, please," Lisbon requested.

Jane hesitated, but one look at Ben's tear-streaked smile did him in. "And how are you this evening, young man?" he asked as he settled Ben in his arms. Lisbon could tell his cheery tone cost him some effort, but Ben didn't seem to mind. Jane added in a more normal tone, "He needs his sleep. Can we get him settled somewhere else soon?"

"That's up to Rigsby and Sarah," Lisbon sighed. "Can you find a quiet corner and calm him down?"

"Of course," Jane said. "Some peace and quiet will do us both good. How much longer do you need to be here?"

"I think we're almost—" Lisbon broke off as she heard a new voice at the front door and identified it as Bertram's. "Oh, just what we needed."

"We'll leave you to it, then," Jane said. To her great surprise, he leaned forward for a quick kiss before hurriedly removing himself and Ben from Bertram's view.

Lisbon went to intercept her boss. "Sir. Is the media here?" That was the only reason she could think of for him to visit a crime scene.

"Not yet," he assured her. "But given that one of my agents has been threatened, I wanted to personally assure him that we will provide whatever protection is necessary for his family."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it, sir. He and Sarah are upstairs in the master bedroom." Though she knew Rigsby wouldn't put much stock in what Bertram said, it might help mollify Sarah. And it would enable her to think about what was going to happen when Bertram realized two of her agents were sleeping together, as he was bound to do once he grasped the sequence of events.

_Crap. Just what I needed tonight._ She wondered fleetingly if she could get Jane to provide one of his distractions, but that would only be postponing the inevitable. She would leave the repercussions of their relationship to Rigsby and Van Pelt and hope they had taken time out of celebrating their news to discuss how to deal with the impact to their careers.

At least, she hoped, things couldn't get worse, at least for the moment.

mmm

Jane took Ben into the kitchen, grabbing him a sippy cup of milk from the refrigerator while putting the kettle on to boil. His head was beginning to clear, he noted gratefully, after the shock of Red John's latest move. Coming immediately after his fight with Lisbon, it had been almost too much to take. He hoped she'd read the message in his brief kiss: that she was right about the price for their running. With Ben in his arms, he had to agree the price was far too high. His fear of losing her had kept him in denial, but he couldn't hide from that fact now.

He felt the sudden urge to go and find her, keep her in sight from now on. But she'd given him charge of Ben, who was calming down, finally. Jane caught the sippy cup as Ben let go of it and laid his head on his shoulder, yawning. The poor kid was up way past his bedtime and exhausted by all the drama he was too young to understand. But that was a mercy, Jane thought. Understanding this mess just made it worse.

When the teakettle began to whistle, he busied himself making his cup of tea one-handed. It had been years since he'd done this, he realized, remembering late nights with Charlotte. He admitted, if only to himself, that he wanted it again. Though he would never pressure Lisbon, whose ambivalence was certainly understandable, he hoped to someday find himself brewing late-night cups of tea with his child in his arms again.

First, he had to find a way to kill Red John, of course. Since the killer hadn't fallen for their trap, he'd have to figure something else out—and quickly, before Red John had time to put his own plan into action. Jane thought they probably had a day or two while Red John watched them all react to Ben's close call and savored their fear and torment. He thought he had them trapped, but Jane was determined to prove him wrong. Every problem had a solution, and no trap was foolproof.

He wondered if he could talk Lisbon into getting microchipped. There had to be some way to turn Red John's obsession with her to their advantage, much as he hated the thought of her being in his enemy's clutches even for a moment.

The tea soothed him as Ben's breathing slowed, and Jane took a moment to appreciate this tiny island of tranquility in the midst of his chaotic life. He'd learned long ago to treasure these little moments and store them away in his memory palace so he could visit them when the darkness surrounding him seemed infinite and inescapable.

He was just finishing his cup when Cho appeared in the doorway. "Know where Lisbon went?" he asked.

"To talk to Bertram," Jane replied, keeping his voice soft so as not to wake Ben. "Why?"

"I can't find her. It's not like her to wander off at a crime scene." Cho sounded mostly puzzled, but Jane felt a pit of worry open in his own stomach.

"No, it's not. I'll help you look. She won't have gone far." Jane tried to calm his heart rate as he followed Cho out into the living room.

Grace was just coming back down the stairs, shaking her head. "She's not up there."

"Where's Bertram?" Jane asked.

"He was talking to Rigsby the last time I saw him. Lisbon and I talked to the crime scene guys before they left, and then I went to send the locals home. I thought she was going to rescue Rigsby. They didn't come out the front door," Cho said.

"They could have gone out the basement door," Grace said, perplexed. "But why would they have gone down there?"

"Here, take him." Jane handed the sleeping Ben to Grace as gently as he could before following Cho toward the stairs.

The basement was finished, but Rigsby seemed to be using it mostly for storage, with boxes stacked nearly everywhere in the main room. There was a definite path leading to the sliding glass door, so Jane and Cho followed it, quickly discovering it was unlocked. They went through it and up the few concrete steps to ground level, looking out at the small patch of grass partly taken up by a swingset. Then Cho started back down the steps.

"Wait," Jane said. "Do you hear that?"

Cho paused, listening. Then he started for the hedge, drawing his gun. Jane kept behind him, eager to find a clue but certain the sound he'd heard hadn't come from Lisbon.

He was right; it was Bertram they found lying beneath a bush, slowly groaning his way to consciousness.

"What happened?" Cho asked, helping him up.

Jane leaned over Cho's shoulder. "Where's Lisbon?"

Bertram blinked, rubbing at his neck. "I don't know. We came out here to look for the intruder's point of entry. I was looking at the bushes while she checked the ground close to the house. Someone hit me from behind."

Cho looked up at Jane. "Call an ambulance and help him into the house. Send Van Pelt out here."

Jane had to focus hard to understand what Cho was saying. His heart was hammering, nearly deafening him. "You think he took her."

Cho stood up and shouted for Grace, who appeared a minute later, out of breath. When she saw Bertram, a look of horror crossed her face.

"Take care of him," Cho instructed as she knelt beside their boss. Then he took Jane's arm and drew him a few steps away. "You with me, Jane?"

"He's got her. Red John has Lisbon." Jane swallowed hard. He knew his mind should be racing, trying to think of ways to get her back, but it was all he could do to keep breathing. He felt like he might throw up, or pass out, or both.

"We don't know that," Cho said. He drew out his cell phone and dialed, then shoved it back in his pocket in disgust. "Her cell's turned off."

Lisbon almost never turned her phone off, and never while they were all in the field. Jane scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to tamp down his roiling emotions so he could think clearly.

Grace was listening even as she helped Bertram to his feet. "You think Red John has the boss?"

Jane snapped, "Well, she didn't just wander off on her own!"

Cho went over to Bertram, who was swaying slightly on his feet. "Did you see anything? Hear anything?"

"No. Not that I remember. What makes you think this was Red John?" Bertram asked, confused.

"Van Pelt, get him an ambulance. If Rigsby's in any shape to help, send him out here. Jane and I will keep looking." Cho looked harassed for the first time Jane could remember.

"He planned this all along. He knew we'd all be upset and distracted working the scene, and he could get to her. Dammit!" He clenched his fists. "I should have been watching her. I shouldn't have let her out of my sight. This is my fault."

"We don't have time for that," Cho barked. "Help me find a clue, something to go on."

Jane knew he was right. He closed his eyes and tried again to calm down, to wedge a new thought into his mind. But all he could process was: _Red John has my wife._


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Note: **Wow, thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter for being so supportive! I was afraid people would come after me with virtual pitchforks for such an evil cliffhanger. But it appears some of you actually like that kind of thing. Still, I promise not to make a habit of it. Much. :)

**Chapter 45**

At the news Lisbon was missing, Rigsby and Grace shook off their shock and focused on the search. Bertram went off to have his injuries tended to, and Cho quickly arranged for Ben and Sarah to go into hiding. Jane retreated to the relative privacy of the living room, slouched into a chair with his head in his hands as his mind ran through possibilities, only dimly aware of all the activity around him.

At least he had the comfort of knowing Red John did not intend to kill Lisbon, at least not right away. He suspected he would be contacted soon so Red John could gloat, but he also knew there would be no useful clues to Lisbon's whereabouts in that communication. Just like there were no clues in the back yard, though Cho was determined to look again in daylight.

The only useful path he could see was to identify Red John. He had the list he'd compiled of people who'd been in the CBI when the note had been placed in Lisbon's pocket, cross referenced with the list of men who met Lorelei's criterion of someone Lisbon had known for years. Of course, there was no guarantee Red John himself had planted the note, but they could start with the list and check alibis for the most recent Red John murders.

Cho crouched down in front of him. "Jane." His tone said he'd been trying to get his attention for some time.

"I need to go to the office," Jane said. He was desperate to get started now that he'd identified a way forward.

"Okay. We'll go in a minute. Moore is on his way, and I want to talk to him first."

Jane sprang to his feet, causing Cho to step back. "I'm not giving up this case."

Cho nodded. "Me either. But the break-in is definitely Red John, so the FBI will take that. We'll hang on to the search for Lisbon unless they find evidence that it's related to Red John and assert jurisdiction. Even if they do that, we won't stop looking. But we need all the resources we can get, Jane."

Jane nodded reluctantly. Cho was making sense, but Jane felt his possessiveness was justified. It was Lisbon's life on the line, and no one would search as hard as he would. He knew he'd have to fight to stay on the search team, if not ignore orders. But at least Cho wouldn't waste his time and energy trying to get him to go home or rest or some other nonsense.

"Rigsby and Van Pelt found these." Cho held up a plastic bag.

Jane recognized Lisbon's badge, wallet, keys, and pieces that had once been her cell phone. He swallowed hard and had to work to control his breathing.

"When the sun comes up we'll see if we can get footprints," Cho said. "We put out a BOLO, but I'm not expecting anything out of it. By the time people are up and out, they'll have her under wraps somewhere we won't think to look."

"We have to figure out who he is, or at least identify a disciple," Jane murmured. "It's our only hope. It's _her_ only hope."

"Don't count Lisbon out," Cho advised. "She knew this might happen. She might have something up her sleeve."

As if anyone had ever escaped Red John, Jane thought. No one admired Lisbon more than he did, but she wasn't a miracle worker. At best, she would hold out against whatever Red John did to her long enough for him to find her while she was still herself. He'd never been so grateful for her stubbornness, because it might be enough to see her through. He had to believe that, because the thought of finding her under the killer's sway was almost as bad as never finding her at all.

His heart hurt—literally hurt, a sharp pain that made him wince. Was he having a heart attack?

"Jane, breathe," Cho urged him. "Sit down. Do you need to go home?"

"No!" Jane sat and focused on his breathing, getting himself under control. He needed to concentrate on the facts at hand, not torture himself with nightmarish speculation. When he got his pulse slowed, he looked at Cho, who was kneeling beside his chair looking worried. Jane leaned back and tried to smile, but failed.

"If you need to scream or hit something, go ahead," Cho said. "Do whatever the hell you need to do to keep going, because I need to focus on finding Lisbon, not worrying about you having a nervous breakdown. Understand?"

Jane nodded. "I'm good. Just give me a minute." He took a deep breath. "Lisbon told you to look after me, didn't she?"

"She didn't need to," Cho replied, standing. He looked over at the door, and Jane followed his gaze to see Stan Moore in the doorway, looking worried.

Moore took one look at Jane and said, "Damn. I was hoping it was a misunderstanding."

"No," Cho said. "But we've got the search under control. The break-in is Red John, though. All yours."

"Right. You don't mind if I talk to your people?" Moore asked as he came over to them.

Cho grimaced. "They're Lisbon's people. Go ahead. Just don't keep them long. I need them."

"You let me know if I can do anything. Anything," Moore said quietly. "No questions asked."

"Thanks, Stan," Jane said, straightening up in his chair and pulling himself together. It was somehow easier to do it when someone who wasn't family was staring at him. He supposed it was the old carnie instinct to never drop the mask in front of outsiders.

Moore looked around, grimacing. "I hope you get her back, Patrick."

Jane stood, relieved to find that he was steady on his feet. "Oh, I will, Stan. Don't doubt it."

"Glad to hear it. I'll be as quick as I can with Rigsby and Van Pelt. And I won't share irrelevant details with anyone in your chain of command," Moore assured them. "You'll be in the office later?"

"We're heading there now," Jane replied.

"See you there," Cho added as Jane started for the door.

They got into Cho's car; Jane made a mental note to find Lisbon's spare keys and retrieve her car before it got towed. Cho drove for a few minutes before he said, "Do you trust him?"

"Stan?" Jane pondered the question. "Possibly. But right now we can't afford to trust anyone except ourselves, Cho. I don't think he's knowingly working for Red John, but I didn't spot O'Loughlin, either. It will be interesting to see if he tells Bertram that Grace and Rigsby are together."

Cho nodded. "We agreed to say Van Pelt and I are taking turns sleeping at Rigsby's when Ben is there, for safety."

"Nice," Jane said. "Plausible."

"Could be true," Cho said, a little defensively. "I just haven't had my turn yet. And now I'm your roommate until Lisbon's back."

Jane knew he should have expected that. "At least you won't eat me out of house and home."

"Not unless you keep making that five-meat pizza," Cho replied.

mmm

Lisbon woke with a splitting headache and painfully dry mouth, and she tried in vain to remember what the hell she'd been doing the night before. Worse, she didn't smell coffee brewing, or even tea. And the bed beside her was cold and empty. Where was Jane?

That question motivated her to force her eyes open. Light was streaming in around the shade in the room's single window. This wasn't their bedroom—was she in a hotel room? Were they on a case? That explained why the sheets were rougher than she was now used to and why the room smelled all wrong, but she couldn't remember a case. And it didn't explain where Jane was. They'd been sharing hotel rooms since their engagement.

Wait. Something about Rigsby—and Ben. Her head pounded as she tried to remember. Oh, crap—the break-in had been a trap!

The door opened, and Lisbon sat up, swallowing hard against the nausea that gripped her at the movement. She could smell her favorite latte suddenly as a shadowy figure walked to the window. Even in the dim light, she could tell it wasn't Jane, and the hair on her neck rose in alarm.

When the figure raised the roller shade and flooded the room with light, she blinked painfully for several seconds, looking down and realizing she wasn't wearing her nightshirt, but an emerald silk nightgown that wasn't hers. She shivered with a sense of violation and looked up again.

Her visitor was silhouetted against the window, preventing her from clearly making out his features as her watery eyes adjusted. "Who are you?" she demanded, pleased that her voice didn't shake.

"Good morning to you too, Teresa," he replied, coming forward and offering her the latte with a smile.

Lisbon couldn't have been more stunned if a zombie had shambled into the room with a troop of penguins. "Ray? _You're_ Red John?"

Haffner chuckled. "Red John will reveal himself to you when you're ready, Teresa. Meanwhile, he thought a friendly face might help you acclimate."

She folded her arms across her mostly exposed chest, ignoring the tantalizing smell of the latte. "You work for him, then."

"That's not how we characterize it, but we're friends, yes."

"Ray, you were a CBI agent! How can you sell your soul to a serial killer?"

Haffner set the latte on the floor near her feet and dragged a chair over from the corner so he could sit facing her. "There's a robe if that will make you more comfortable."

Lisbon grabbed the matching robe off the foot of the bed and pulled it on quickly.

"And I promise the coffee's not drugged," he continued, sounding amused.

"Like I'm going to believe your promises," she retorted. God, what had happened to the others? She prayed they were safe.

"Jane and your people are fine," he assured her. "We were long gone before they realized you were missing."

Jane would be going crazy, she thought. She desperately hoped Cho was keeping a close eye on him.

Haffner acted like he'd dropped by her office for a chat on a slow day. "To answer your earlier question, meeting Red John predated my career in law enforcement. You only see one aspect of his work, Teresa. You don't know all he has to offer. But you will."

"I don't want anything he has to offer. I want to go home to my husband and my team and my job," she retorted. Was he armed? Her odds of wrestling a weapon off him were slim. He might have gone into business for himself, but he was still a cop by training. And she was far from at her best.

"What, go back to your futile attempt to protect the clueless sheep? Teresa. You could be so much more. You work what, sixty or seventy hours a week for a pittance, with no hope of a raise any time soon. And you can forget ever getting a promotion—Jane saw to that. By all accounts, he's taken steps to make it up to you lately, but only because Red John forced him to."

Lisbon was beginning to feel more angry than frightened. There was apparently no intent to harm her in the immediate future, just to criticize her life. "Our marriage is not about Red John. He forced Jane to make a choice, but the choices we made after that are our own."

Haffner shook his head, his tone incredulous. "Teresa, please. You can't possibly believe he is really in love with you."

"That is absolutely none of your business," she snapped.

"I'm just trying to get you to wake up and see that this life you want to go back to isn't what you think it is," he said. "Jane's a con man. Everything's a game to him. I'm sure he cares about you in his way—whatever that is—but he's not capable of loving you the way you love him. As you learn more about the true nature of love, you'll come to see that."

"I know plenty about the true nature of love," she said. "It doesn't include carving up innocent women or torturing a good man for a decade because he said something stupid on television."

"A good man? Oh, Teresa, you really have drunk the Kool-Aid. Hopefully being away from him will help you regain clarity. And we'll keep you posted on how he's doing from time to time. I think you'll see that he's very far from a good man." He leaned back in his chair. "Are you really going to let that go cold? I went all the way to Marie's to get it."

Lisbon wondered if Jane would think to inquire if anyone had ordered her favorite at Marie's. Could she convince Ray to make it a habit? Besides, the caffeine would help her headache.

"Don't worry," he said as she picked up the cup. "It's decaf. Everyone here knows about the baby, so you don't have to worry. We even have a doctor onsite. Once you've settled in, you'll want to report for your checkup."

Lisbon grimaced but sipped the coffee anyway, hoping she hadn't given away the fact that she'd forgotten she was supposed to be pregnant. She'd have to be careful; she was probably under surveillance at all times. She just hoped her erratic period wouldn't show up for a while. "You have a doctor? What is this place?"

"I'll give you the tour. But first, I'm sure you'd like to freshen up. I'll be back in half an hour to take you to breakfast." Haffner got to his feet and left, closing the door firmly behind him. The lock clicked into place, loud in the silent room.

The moment he was gone, Lisbon sprang out of bed and did a quick search of the room. The walls were made of thick stone, and the window was double paned and sealed. It overlooked a vegetable garden without a soul in sight, and she could tell she was on the third or fourth floor, too high to jump even if she could get through the window. She could see but not hear singing birds, so screaming for help was useless. And the slight tint to the glass made her wonder if she was even visible from the outside.

The room was small, with only the narrow bed, a dresser, and a small bookcase with a few paperback books about pregnancy and child rearing. It reminded her of a depressing dorm room the occupant hadn't bothered to personalize. But the small closet was full of clothes in her size, ranging from blazers and blouses similar to what she normally worse to skimpy, colorful sundresses she wouldn't be caught dead in. The dresser held jeans and underclothes, as well as t-shirts.

The en suite bathroom was fully stocked, complete with prenatal vitamins and toiletries in scents she favored. Apparently Red John had taken a look around the bathroom during his visit to the apartment. She shivered a little, then closed her eyes as the thought of home naturally led to thoughts of Jane. He would be going through hell. She could only hope he channeled his fear and frustration into productive work instead of wallowing, and that someone would make him eat, sleep, and bathe occasionally.

She went over the room again with an eye to what she could use as a weapon, but apparently her host had thought of everything. The furniture was too sturdy to break apart; even the bookshelves were screwed into place. And there wasn't so much as a nail file in the bathroom she could improvise with. Oh God, was she in some kind of asylum?

After her search failed to turn up any cameras in the bathroom, she hurried through the bare necessities of her morning routine. Then she pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, shrugged on a blazer, and chose a pair of sturdy boots.

Being dressed made her feel more capable, ready to face whatever was in store—and she had no idea what that was. When she'd thought about the possibility of being kidnapped by Red John, she'd envisioned being tied up in a dark basement and taunted by a madman holding a knife. She'd never imagined a comfortable if spartan room, a latte, and Ray Haffner acting like her tour guide. It was beyond bizarre.

What was the plan here? Lull her suspicions and then hypnotize her into compliance? Jane had said Red John would want her to choose him of her own free will, so he could feel he'd won. But Lisbon couldn't imagine anything that would make her do so. She certainly wasn't going to let him seduce her.

Still, as long as she resisted, Red John would keep trying, and his methods would only get more desperate. At least as long as he believed she was pregnant, he probably wouldn't drug her or hurt her too badly. But he apparently had plenty of other tricks up his sleeve, so she needed to gradually let him believe he was winning, without actually letting him.

For the first few years she'd known Jane, she'd sometimes wondered how it was possible for someone to constantly live a lie, never revealing his true self to anyone as far as she could tell. Then, slowly, he'd begun to let her glimpse the man behind the mask. She'd hoped at first that meant he was starting to heal, but then she'd realized it was simply that even someone with Jane's obsessive focus couldn't stay completely isolated indefinitely.

She was not a good liar, nowhere near Jane's league. But she would have to keep up a mask while looking for a way to escape. She had to remember she was a wife who believed she'd been cheated on, who was pregnant and not sure she was happy about it. That person might well be looking for a way out, she had to admit. If Red John didn't know how firmly she believed that marriage was sacred, he might buy it if she pretended to let him and his friends talk her out of her commitment to Jane.

She sat down on the bed and put a hand on her stomach for the benefit of anyone watching. "Don't worry," she whispered. "Whatever happens, you come first. I'll take care of you." She felt silly talking to an imaginary baby, but she thanked God there wasn't a real one to worry about.

She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as if trying to calm herself, and prayed—not just for herself, but for Jane, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt. She asked God to make sure they didn't put themselves in danger trying to find her, and she begged him not to let them blame themselves, whatever happened.

But she had the sinking feeling that was as futile as praying to become a good liar.

mmm

Jane shut himself up in Lisbon's office, finding other people unbearable. Why should all these people he barely knew be safe and happy when his one reason for living wasn't? Though rationally he knew few people in the CBI were happy since one of their own had been kidnapped, he found it useful to despise them as an outlet for his frustration.

Cho was the only one brave enough to disturb him, coming in to report, "We're running down alibis for the time Lisbon was taken. It's a pretty precise window, but it's going to take a while. What do you need?"

_Lisbon,_ Jane thought automatically. Aloud, he said, "Peace and quiet so I can concentrate. And can you cordon off the break room so I can get a cup of tea?"

Cho looked at him for a moment, then said, "Fine. Wait here."

He stepped out into the hall, letting the door swing shut behind him. Jane listened despite himself, curious.

"Listen up," Cho called out. "Jane is coming out. Do not make eye contact or speak to him. Do not acknowledge his presence in any way. If you ignore this warning, you deserve whatever he does to you. Understood?"

Jane found grim amusement in the flurry of activity he could hear in the hallway. When he stepped out of the office a few minutes later, he made a point of looking around. The few hardy souls remaining studiously ignored him, except Cho, who stood nearby with his arms folded, apparently prepared to tackle anyone who came close.

He followed his usual brewing method, but somehow the tea tasted flat and flavorless. He remembered in despair how long it had taken his sense of taste to come back after his breakdown and hoped this wasn't a sign of impending collapse.

Dimly, he was aware of the elevator ding, followed by footsteps in the quiet hall and urgent whispering. He looked up to find Moore standing nearby uncertainly. "Stan," he said calmly.

"Patrick," Moore replied in the same tone. "I'd like to get your opinion on something. Can I buy you breakfast?"

Jane set his cup of undrinkable tea in the sink. Maybe eggs would help. They were full of nutrition for the brain, after all. "Certainly. After you."

Cho swung by his desk and joined them at the elevator. None of them spoke until they were seated in a diner booth, and Moore waited until they'd placed their orders to start the conversation. "How's Director Bertram?"

"He's fine," Cho said. "Not even a concussion. Whoever hit him just wanted him unconscious for a minute."

"And does he usually get involved with investigations?"

"No," Cho replied. "He shows up to talk to the press."

"But there wasn't any press at Rigsby's place."

"No," Cho said. "He came to talk to Rigsby about how we're one big CBI family and we take care of our own."

Moore nodded. "But then he went out with Lisbon to look for evidence. Has that ever happened before?"

Cho glanced at Jane. "Not that I know of."

Jane chewed on his lower lip. "Bertram's not the hands-on type. And Lisbon wouldn't've suggested it."

"So what was he doing out there?" Moore asked. "Do you think it's likely Agent Lisbon would leave the house to search a dark yard without telling any of you, taking only Bertram with her? Especially with Red John involved?"

"No," Jane said slowly. "No, I don't."

Cho leaned forward. "You think he lured her into a trap."

"I think it's possible. And it's obvious you both do too." Moore leaned forward as well. "I've been looking into him, quietly. There are enough inconsistencies in his records to make me wonder."

"Who else knows about this?" Cho asked.

"No one," Moore said. "I know you can't afford to trust me, but I know I can trust you. In fact you're the only people I can be sure aren't working for Red John. So I'll give you all the help I can." He paused, then said quietly, "I came across a cold case recently that has a Red John connection, though there are inconsistencies. It might be his first killing. Three bodies discovered, two bound, apparently shot, in the subbasement of a barn with a smiley face painted in blood on the outside."

Jane was interested despite himself. "If it was his first, he might have left evidence."

"He might have," Moore said, "but this was nearly thirty years ago. There's not much left. But it means he was at this farm in a specific time frame. And the farm was owned by Visualize. I know Bret Stiles was the one who told you where Kristina Frye was, so this isn't the first connection between Visualize and Red John."

"It gives us a way to exclude suspects," Jane said.

Cho nodded. "Bertram?"

"Can't be excluded. He was supposedly overseas at the time, but I haven't been able to confirm that," Moore said. "Given Red John's track record of moles in the CBI and FBI, I've been looking at males of an age to have been at the Elliston farm in the mid eighties who work for either agency. I've turned up some surprising links."

"Such as?" Jane demanded.

"Did you know Ray Haffner was a member of Visualize?"

"No. Interesting," Jane said. "He asked Lisbon to join his firm when he left CBI, pitched it as a way for me to stay with the team since the rules say we should be separated. Is Visualize one of his backers?"

"I believe so. I've also been looking at Reede Smith, since he worked closely with Mancini, but I can't access his personnel records without telling my superiors why."

Cho said, "You need Van Pelt. I'll tell her to help you with digging up records."

"Great."

Jane said, "What about Kirkland?"

Moore shook his head. "Same problem. I can't investigate him without getting caught."

"I need to see your list," Jane said.

"It's a long one," Moore warned.

"I don't care. Grace and I can work together on it." Jane knew he was getting overly excited and tried to calm down. "We don't care if we get caught."

"Yes you do," Cho reminded him. "You can't find Lisbon from a jail cell." He frowned, then said. "Bring us your list. Jane can cross reference it with his, and Van Pelt will do some stealthy digging."

Jane said, "And bring me that cold case file."

"Right," Moore agreed, just as their food arrived to end the conversation.


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note: **This one's a little shorter, but I figured faster was better than longer. And to answer Galxychld's question, yes, we're more than halfway through. More than three-quarters, even. As much as I love this universe, someday soon I really need to get back to my non-fanfic writing project! Though I am totally a review addict now so I doubt I'll be able to stay away for long. Thanks to all of you who keep feeding my habit!

**Chapter 46**

Lisbon used one of her boots to try knocking Haffner unconscious as he opened her door after a perfunctory knock. Unfortunately, he was expecting her attack and avoided the worst of the blow, pivoting smoothly to grab her and force her to drop the boot.

"Really, Teresa, how stupid do you think I am?" he asked. "I hope you're not going to make a habit of this. I don't like wrestling with pregnant women. Besides, you don't want to escape."

"Right," she scoffed. "I'm just supposed to let you hold me prisoner indefinitely. Let go of me!"

He did, looking amused. She wanted to punch him.

"Yes, at least until you learn who Red John is," he replied. "Think about it. If you escaped today and ran back to throw yourself into Jane's arms, what's the first question he'll ask you? Do you think he'd understand if you passed up a chance to find out the identity of the man he's been hunting for a decade now? Is there even a chance he'd shrug it off and tell you that your safety is all he cares about, and mean it?"

_Yes,_ Lisbon thought. He'd made that choice once before, after all, before they'd done more than kiss once. "You don't know Jane as well as you think you do."

"Maybe not. But Red John does."

"If it was just me, you might be right. I might take the risk, and Jane might want me to. But it's not just me. And the baby takes priority for both of us."

"No one's going to hurt your baby, Teresa. Red John would never allow it. He was so excited to learn you were finally ready to come to him." Haffner smiled.

"So what's the plan, Ray? Hold me captive until the baby's born? Then what?" She folded her arms. Surely he couldn't expect to hold her for months on end.

"I don't know. I'm sure he'll tell us when he's ready. Now, are you hungry? You need to eat regular, nutritious meals, you know."

"I know," she snapped. It wasn't like Jane hadn't been nagging her about that. She sat down and put her boot on, then resigned herself to playing along for a while. Because Haffner was right: she had to find out who Red John was while she had the chance. It was her job, and she also felt she owed it to Jane.

They didn't meet anyone in the hallway or in the elevator. When they reached the first floor and stepped into a spacious lobby, Lisbon ran to the nearest exterior door and tried to open it. It was locked, and from Haffner's calm, almost bored, stance, she gathered they all were. The glass door looked out onto a field of grass on the other side of an empty driveway. No help there.

"This is a secure facility," he told her.

Maybe it really was an inane asylum, she thought in horror. "What kind of facility?"

He shrugged. "For the treatment of serious mental illness, mostly. Though we also use it for members in imminent danger of backsliding into their old way of life. Don't worry. The ones who are a danger to themselves or others are in a locked ward you can't get into."

Lisbon turned and looked at the logo above the unoccupied reception desk. "This is a Visualize facility."

"Yes."

"And Bret Stiles knows I'm here?" He'd helped Jane once before, to find Kristina Frye. And more importantly, Jane had said Stiles owed him a favor. Maybe she could claim it on his behalf?

"Nothing happens in Visualize without Brother Stiles' approval," Haffner said.

Lisbon let her disappointment show. There was no point in putting on a brave face when her goal was to let them believe they were winning. Following Haffner down another hallway, she started to smell bacon cooking, and her mouth watered. She was very hungry, she realized.

It was late morning, so the small cafeteria was almost deserted, save for a few men having a late breakfast. From their white coats, she guessed they were on the health care staff. Approaching the nearest one, she said loudly, "My name is Teresa Lisbon. I'm an agent with the California Bureau of Investigation, and I'm being held here against my will. If you don't call the police and tell them where I am, you'll be an accessory to kidnapping."

He rolled his eyes and got up, ignoring her as he carried his tray over to the dirty dish area. Oh well, she had to try, she thought. She wasn't likely to get help from anyone in Visualize against Stiles' orders, but any slim chance that someone would talk about her to the outside world was worth taking.

The other people in the room got up and left before she could approach them, so she followed Haffner to the serving station and got herself a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and a blueberry muffin. None of it was as good as Jane's cooking, but she expected that. What she didn't expect was the nausea that hit her partway through the meal. "What did you use on me?" she asked.

"Chloroform, and then a mild sedative. Nothing that would hurt the baby. Morning sickness?" he asked. "The doctor can give you something."

"I'd rather not have more drugs, thanks," she retorted. She needed to put off visiting the doctor as long as possible, to avoid discovery that her pregnancy was a sham. She worried that if Red John found out, he'd carry out his threat to rape her. He certainly wasn't going to let her go; letting her see all this argued that he intended her to live out the rest of her life as his captive, however long or short that was. Haffner certainly didn't seem worried that she'd have him arrested for kidnapping her.

"That's good," Haffner said. "We emphasize using your mind to control your body rather than relying on external influences. A lot of members have addiction problems when they come to us. There are plenty of meditation classes you can take if you'd like to learn more."

Great. This was a cross between rehab and an asylum, she thought. No wonder she was being held here; the security was already in place, along with a staff trained to mess with her head who were used to patients whose statements they couldn't believe. "So that's the plan? Keep me here until I come around to your way of thinking out of sheer boredom?" If it was a choice between meditation or sitting in her room with nothing to do, she'd need to be transferred to the locked ward in short order.

"We hope you'll see the sense in what we practice, Teresa. Have you ever stopped to examine your own beliefs?"

"Of course." _Wasn't that part of everybody's college experience?_ she thought sourly.

"There's no 'of course' about it. Most people haven't, not in any real way. They might rebel against the faith they were raised with or they might stop practicing it, but they rarely take a long, hard look at it or evaluate it against alternative belief systems. In your case, I'll bet you've never seriously considered walking away from the beliefs you were raised with. Although you may disagree with some of your church's teachings, you find comfort in its rituals. But you've never considered that another faith might make more sense to you." Haffner grew more animated as he talked, and she couldn't doubt his sincerity.

"I'm not in the market to change my religion." That was one thing she didn't think she could pretend about. Her mother had been a devout woman, and she would always associate her church with her memory.

"But you should be. Everyone should be. Faith is too important to let an accident of birth determine which one you follow."

Lisbon felt her nose crinkle in distaste. This was like arguing about religion with Jane—annoying and utterly pointless. "I believe that I was born to my parents for a reason. It wasn't an accident. And you are not going to talk me out of a lifetime's worth of faith, Ray. Besides, faith isn't a rational thing. It's not supposed to make sense. You feel it or you don't, but you can't quantify it, so you can't prove one is superior to another."

Haffner chuckled. "I knew you'd be a tough sell, Teresa. But don't worry. No one is going to try to force you to convert. Spend some time with the others here. There's yoga classes as well as meditation, and you can join the gardening team if you want. I know you like to keep busy. Oh, and I've heard there's a poker game in the evenings. Not as cutthroat as you're used to, of course, but it will help you pass the time."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "And how long are you here for, Ray? What about your firm?"

"I have capable staff," he said, "but I have to go back tomorrow. My job is to get you settled in, and then others will guide you on your journey. I'll be back to visit when I can, though." He looked at her half full plate and said, "If you're finished, would you like to see the indoor pool and track? A healthy body is the first step to a healthy mind."

mmm

Lisbon didn't return to her room until after dinner, most of which she managed to eat. She'd worked up an appetite walking the extensive grounds with Haffner, who'd made sure to point out the prison-quality electrical fencing and surveillance cameras around the property that she'd have to contend with in an escape attempt.

"Good luck, Teresa," he said as he walked her to her door, for all the world like they'd been on a date. Her stomach turned a little at the thought.

"Ray," she said, deciding she might as well take this one last chance to get through to him, "please. You know I don't belong here. Help me. I know you don't like Jane, but just a word to Cho—"

He smiled, shaking his head. "You do belong here, Teresa. You'll see. Someday soon, you'll look back on today as the beginning of your true life. I am helping you, whether you believe that right now or not."

She opened the door to her room, noting the type of lock. "I don't. And I hope someday soon I'll be testifying at your trial." She went inside and closed the door behind her, not looking at him again.

Someone had been in the room. A vase of flowers stood on the bookcase, red roses mixed with yellow and orange flowers, showy but not overwhelming. A note lay beneath it, a single sheet of thick, cream colored paper with precise, old-fashioned handwriting.

_Dear Teresa,_

_Welcome! I hope your first day with us hasn't been too trying. I know the adjustment will be difficult for you, but I am confident you will one day be grateful for this fresh start. However, that day may be long in coming, and meanwhile I do not want you to be unnecessarily unhappy. Despite his recent treatment of you, I know you will be missing Patrick tonight, as he is no doubt missing you. So I will give you something to look forward to. If you do not cause any trouble tomorrow, I will allow you to record a message to him and see that it is delivered. I know you will worry less if you are able to put his mind at rest about your safety._

_If there is anything you need, let one of the staff know. Someone will bring your breakfast in the morning, and afterward you are free to move about the facility as you please. I hope you will avail yourself of the opportunity to relax and allow yourself to be pampered._

_Sleep well, and pleasant dreams._

_John_

Lisbon put the note back after she finished reading it and went to the bathroom to get a glass of water, hoping to settle her stomach. She hoped he was telling the truth about letting her send a message to Jane. She would have to think of some way to point him toward Visualize without Red John realizing she was doing so.

There was no way she was putting on that stupid nightgown again, so she dug in the drawers until she found some yoga clothes. Those would do, though she longed for her jersey, or better yet, one of Jane's shirts. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and grabbed one of the pregnancy books to read in bed. If she was going to keep everyone believing she was pregnant, she needed to do the research.

Contrary to her expectations, the book didn't put her to sleep, and she gave up on it at the point where she would be expected to start showing. She wouldn't be able to fake that here.

She turned off the lights, deciding she needed to try to sleep no matter how impossible that seemed. She tried counting breaths as Jane had once taught her, but the memory of his calm, soothing voice made tears prickle behind her eyes. She was going to end up crying herself to sleep if she wasn't careful.

A happy memory was called for, something she could crawl into and lose herself in. She thought back to her most recent birthday. Jane had dropped hints for weeks beforehand about his plans, saying that her first birthday as a married woman should be unforgettable. He'd taken to leaving brochures for outrageous things—including skydiving, an Amazon cruise, and quaint Parisian hotels—around their apartment. Not only that, he'd begun whispering with the team, causing Grace to break out in a fit of giggles more than once. Telling him that the only thing she hated worse than surprises was secrets only made him smirk and try to kiss her.

So she'd woken up on her birthday in a state of dread and suspicion, only to have the day pass in perfect normality. Jane had solved a case without causing even the slightest bit of trouble, then invited the team for dinner that night. She'd suspected that was planned in advance, since they all agreed immediately and no one had to change any plans.

Jane had cooked an incredible dinner accompanied by some expensive wine, then produced a beautiful cake, which he admitted came from a bakery since baking was not his forte. The team gave her a normal assortment of gifts, which she was touched by, and then she'd hesitated to open the large, elaborately wrapped box from Jane.

"Go ahead," he'd smirked. "I promise it's nothing embarrassing."

"By your definition of embarrassing, or mine?" she'd demanded.

"Yours. Now stop exposing the serious trust deficiency in our marriage and open your present, please, Teresa." She remembered the affectionate amusement in his voice, and the way he'd looked at her as she opened the box to reveal a new leather jacket she'd admired but considered too expensive, with tickets to the next Kings game in the pocket. And she'd immediately realized the brochures had been a big misdirect, so she wouldn't guess he was giving her something she actually wanted.

After their guests were gone, she'd modeled the jacket for him, wearing nothing else. And she'd kept it on through their playful lovemaking, laughing down at him while he spun wicked roleplaying scenarios they could try with the jacket and teased her about her penchant for leaving her coat on during sex. She'd all but forgotten the time up against the hotel room door in Seattle, still wearing her coat, until then, but the memory inspired her to declare that for his birthday she would reprise her role, this time as Lovely Wife, at whatever location he chose.

While they had lain in each other's arms afterward, he'd said, "Does that mean I'm Lovely Husband tonight?"

She'd laughed. "I'd rather have Horny Husband. You cooked two lovely meals today; that's pretty much all the lovely I can stand. Besides giving me basketball tickets, which implies you intend to sit through a game with me. I appreciate the sacrifice."

"You're not taking Cho?" he'd asked in mock horror.

"The after game activity I'm planning wouldn't suit Cho," she'd replied.

"Will you be wearing the jacket?" He'd given her such an absurdly hopeful look that she'd had to kiss him. One thing had led to another, and she blushed a little as she remembered the secret fantasy he'd plucked out of her head—and then fulfilled beyond her dreams.

That was one of the few times they'd been careless, she also remembered. She hoped they got to reenact that scenario someday soon, without waking up the next day worried about whether they'd just given Red John what he wanted. Although it was hard to have any romantic notions about pregnancy after reading all the details of what her body would undergo, she couldn't get the picture of Jane holding Ben out of her head.

She fell asleep thinking about boy's names, imagining Jane's arms wrapped tightly around her.

mmm

Grace's yawn looked like it threatened to unhinge her jaw, Jane noted dispassionately. "Sorry," she said when she noticed him looking at her.

"It's late," Rigsby said pointedly.

Jane looked around his dining room table, where they were gathered with laptops and files. They'd relocated for privacy, something they couldn't achieve at the office. "I'll make more coffee," he said wearily, getting up.

Rigsby snapped, "She's pregnant, Jane. She doesn't need coffee. She needs sleep. It's two in the morning, for crying out loud!"

"I'm okay," Grace said firmly.

Cho said, "No, you're not. Go lie down for a few hours. The rest of us will keep working. That way at least one of us will be fresh in the morning."

Grace glanced at Jane, obviously expecting him to object. But he sighed and said, "There's fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room. Let me know if you need anything."

Rigsby sprang out of his chair. "I'll get your bag from the car," he said to Grace, then headed for the front door.

Grace looked torn. "Are you sure? Because I can keep working."

"We're sure," Cho said firmly. "We won't do Lisbon any good if we all run ourselves into the ground. We need to take shifts. Get some sleep."

"Okay," she said around another huge yawn, then turned and went toward the bedrooms.

Jane dropped back into his chair, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Though he wouldn't hesitate to kill himself with work, he knew Lisbon would kick his ass if he didn't take care of Grace and the baby—or at least not interfere with Rigsby doing so.

"We'll find her," Cho said quietly. "But it might take a while. We need to pace ourselves."

"If you can sleep, go ahead," Jane said bitterly. He knew he wouldn't be able to. He'd barely been able to choke down half of a sandwich earlier. But eventually his body would give out and force him to eat and sleep. He wanted Lisbon home before that happened, because he didn't want to face the nightmares he was sure he'd have if she weren't.

"Nah, I'm good," Cho said. Then he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "What I can't figure out is, why take her weapon? They took the time to dump everything else."

Jane frowned. "They needed it to threaten her?"

"No way. You don't go after a cop unarmed and hope to get her weapon off her. Plus, they drugged her. We only found one set of footsteps going out to the street, remember? Someone carried her. That means she was unconscious."

_Or dead._ Neither of them said it, but the words hung in the air like smog, choking them. They thought Red John didn't want to kill Lisbon, but he'd changed his mind before. It wasn't impossible that he was saving her corpse for a big reveal. None of them wanted to acknowledge that, though.

Cho continued, "This was planned. He wanted her alive. So why the hell didn't they just ditch the gun with her other stuff?"

"Something to prove he's got her when he contacts me," Jane guessed.

"The wallet would have worked better for that," Cho said.

Jane thought about it. "Something to give back to her eventually? As a reward, once he thinks he's turned her?" Her gun was a big part of her identity. But wouldn't her badge have worked better for that?

Then it hit him. "Yes. To give back to her so she can use it on the target he gives her."

"You?" Cho asked.

"Possibly." Personally, Jane could think of much worse outcomes than Lisbon putting him out of his misery. Oh. Maybe that was it. "Or herself, in front of me."

"Makes sense," Cho said after a moment. "He wanted you to kill her to prove your friendship, so why not make her kill you to prove hers? So how long do you think it'll take?"

"For him to turn her? A long time. But she'll be playing along, looking for her chance. If he's as obsessed with her as I think he is, he'll see what he wants to see."

"Still, unless he's an idiot, we're talking weeks at best," Cho frowned.

"Yes," Jane said heavily. "Unless we find her first. We need to lean on Bertram."

"If we do that, we only get one chance before we're all out of a job," Cho pointed out. "And worse, once we tip him off, we have no chance of him leading us to Lisbon. He'll make sure to stay far away from her."

"Then we have to make our one chance count," Jane said.

"Look. I'm with you," Cho said. "I want to get Lisbon back and kill the bastard who took her, and I don't care what we have to do to get it. But we have to be smart. And that means we stick together. No running off on your own. I'm not going to ask you to promise, because we both know it wouldn't be worth spit. But think about it, Jane. Stay smart."

"I hear you," Jane said. But there was no way he would hesitate if he thought he needed to ditch the others, and they both knew it. He got to his feet as they heard Rigsby come back in. "I need more tea. Coffee?"

"Sure."


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note: **I can't tell you how much I enjoy reading all your theories about what's going on in this story. Some of you are much cleverer than I am! And some of you are going to feel very smug after this chapter. ;) Enjoy!

**Chapter 47**

Lisbon woke at her normal time, bitterly disappointed to find she hadn't dreamed her captivity. She tried the door, but it remained stubbornly locked from the outside. Then she went into the bathroom, deciding she would have to shower eventually. That door locked from the inside at least, though it was flimsy enough she had no doubt Red John's minions could break it down anytime they wanted to.

Still, the letter seemed to imply she was being treated as a guest for the time being, so she decided to take the risk. And she felt much better after she was clean and dressed again.

Only one thing had changed since the last time she'd gone over the room, so she concentrated on the vase. Tapping a fingernail against it, she was pleased to note it wasn't plastic. It might even be crystal, she thought. She'd be able to knock someone out with it, especially with water to add weight. But first she had to figure out how to get out of the facility.

And today she was going to behave so she could send a message to Jane.

When the server arrived with her breakfast tray, she was sitting demurely on the bed. She waited until he was gone, then ate the fruit and oatmeal and drank the glass of milk, looking over the schedule someone had written on a card. She was going to skip the doctor's appointment, but she thought she might look in on the yoga class, especially since it was outside. The Personal Guidance session after lunch sounded suspiciously like therapy, so she would skip that too. Surely Red John knew how she felt about therapists, so hopefully he wouldn't count this as misbehaving. She would visit the library and see what she could find to read, but not while the Group Guidance session was going on.

And she could always kill time trying to nap. The book said pregnancy would make her tired, since her body was working hard growing a baby. She might even catch up on the past year's worth of lost sleep, except she didn't intend to be here that long. And she needed time to think of how to give Jane a clue without tipping anyone else off.

Exercise would help her think. She put on some appropriate clothing and went in search of the yoga class on the terrace.

The instructor had already begun, but she paused to let Lisbon grab a mat and get situated. "Welcome, Teresa. I'm glad you've joined us," she smiled.

"Thanks," Lisbon said, managing a brief smile in return. She needed to try to get on friendly terms with her fellow inmates and the staff if possible.

The class was over too soon, leaving her at a loss. The instructor came over as the others wandered back inside. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I'm Allie."

"Nice to meet you. Great class," Lisbon replied.

"Thanks. We do it every morning. And I teach a smaller class that meets at sunset. You're welcome to join that one too."

"Thanks, I might do that." Lisbon thought she might sleep better if she wore herself out.

"Got anywhere you need to be? I like to swing by the cafeteria and grab some juice after a class," Allie remarked. "Want to join me?"

"Sure." Lisbon followed her new acquaintance back to the cafeteria. They grabbed a couple of glasses of juice and sat down. "So how did you end up teaching yoga in a place like this?"

"I've always wanted to help people. And everyone here is searching for something. Some of them will find that yoga helps them focus on their journey." Allie took a sip of juice and smiled. "I know it's not much, but it's what I'm meant to be doing right now." Then she laughed. "But of course what you really want to know is, what's a nice girl like me doing in a cult like this?"

Lisbon shrugged. "Well, now that you mention it..."

"I was born into it. I went through a rebellious phase and left for a while, but the more I saw of the world, the sadder it made me. So many people leading pointless lives, with no goal, no purpose. So I came back." She took another sip. "And now I have a purpose. Do you, Teresa?"

"Yes. I'm a cop. I get justice for people who've been wronged," she said.

"That was what you did. Here, no one is being wronged, so we have no need for law enforcement."

"I'm being wronged," Lisbon pointed out. "I was kidnapped and am being held here against my will."

"I know," Allie said.

Lisbon was surprised. "You're not going to tell me how one day I'll be grateful?"

"What's the point? You wouldn't believe me. It is true, though." Allie grinned at her, then finished her juice. "You're lucky, though I know you won't believe that either. Not many men would be as patient as Red John, letting you get your cravings out of your system so you'd be ready to appreciate him when it was time for you to join him."

Lisbon looked down at her rings. Craving was an odd word to describe her relationship with Jane, though she supposed it wasn't entirely inaccurate. "Now you're going to tell me I don't understand the true nature of love."

"You don't," Allie responded. "You probably think love is about attraction and affection. But really love is intense and dangerous. It demands sacrifice. It's about learning to give up pieces of ourselves so we can receive pieces of others. Most people only want to receive, not give. But the giving is what is truly fulfilling."

Lisbon pondered that. She felt that she'd done her share of giving with Jane, though he had certainly shown his nurturing side since they'd become a couple. "That's true," she said. "It's part of what I love about my job, giving to others. How long have you known I was coming?"

"We were told yesterday morning, after you got here. All I knew at first was that you were a special guest, but Ray thought you'd want to take my class, so he told me a little about you. He thought you might need a friend after he left."

Lisbon in no way considered Haffner a friend any longer, but it was pointless to say so. "And have you met Red John?"

"Yes, of course. I don't know him very well, but he's definitely a powerful personality. Magnetic. He has a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world while he's talking to you." Allie smiled. "Ray says your ex-husband is much the same way."

"I'm still married," Lisbon said sharply.

"Sorry." Allie looked apologetic, but Lisbon thought it hadn't been a slip of the tongue. As far as Red John and his friends were concerned, her marriage, like the rest of her life as she knew it, was already over. Their aim was to convince her of that.

"I love my husband," she persisted. "And I don't even know Red John, so I don't understand how I'm supposed to just suddenly abandon Patrick and fall in love with a stranger."

"You'll understand when you meet him." Allie got to her feet. "Thanks for the chat, Teresa. I'll see you around, I hope. Time for my vent vid!"

Lisbon watched her go, a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten more information. But she should try to gain allies if possible, try to spot someone who might help her. If there were potential backsliders here, one of them might want out as well.

Hm. Maybe she would go to Group Guidance after all.

mmm

Bertram was out of town all day, attending a charity fundraiser in L.A. that evening, so Jane turned their attention to other suspects. Digging around confidential records was left to Grace and her counterfeit user ID, while Rigsby made phone calls pretending to be conducting routine background checks. Meanwhile Cho did his best to find out if Visualize was being investigated by any other state agencies, since Moore had told them the FBI suspected the cult of tax evasion but hadn't been able to find an informant or insert a mole.

Jane went over Moore's suspect list, checking it against his own and evaluating the profiler's notes. Red John was likely a white male age 40 to 60 with a traumatic event in his childhood, probably related to his mother or maybe a sister, intelligent but insecure, responding violently to any disparagement of his intelligence or ability. Jane rolled his eyes; anyone could figure that out just from his own history with the killer.

This and other factors led Moore to hypothesize that Red John worked in a position of power to which he'd risen at an unusually young age, or else lived on money he'd either inherited or made young. The profiler was in the process of eliminating suspects with jobs where they were closely supervised or regularly had to perform menial tasks. Jane agreed with the latter, but he thought the former criterion was shaky. Red John might take pleasure in manipulating a boss who thought he was in control, much as Jane had expected to with Lisbon when they'd first met. Her genuine compassion, intelligence, and toughness had eventually led him to regard her as an ally, not a mark, but then he wasn't a sociopath. And Red John's boss, if he had one, probably wasn't nearly as admirable as Lisbon.

As the sun set, Jane shut himself into Lisbon's office, needing to regroup. He was exhausted and frustrated, and he needed to make his brain rest for a few minutes. He could drink his tea in peace on the couch, and Lisbon's scent lingered in the air, which comforted him.

Two days. She'd been gone not quite 48 hours, and he already felt like he couldn't bear another day. But he couldn't give up, not when she was counting on him. He had to keep going as long as there was even the slightest chance he could get her back.

"Jane!" Grace cried from the bullpen. The urgency in her voice had him on his feet before his brain caught up, and he barely remembered to set his teacup down on the table before flinging the door open and rushing to Grace's desk.

"What have you got?" he demanded breathlessly.

"Someone just uploaded a video to the secure server and sent me a notification. It's Lisbon!"

Jane refrained from pushing her out of the way, but just barely, fists clenching. "Is she okay?"

Cho and Rigsby were hovering behind Grace's chair, and Cho said, "We just watched a second, then waited for you."

Grace restarted the video. Lisbon was wearing a tank top, her hair in a ponytail. She looked like she'd been exercising, Jane thought. The sudden, dizzying rush of relief that she was unhurt nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Jane, I'm okay. They haven't hurt me, and they're treating me okay. The baby's fine too," she began quickly, as if not sure how much time she had. "I don't know where I am, but there's a doctor here and healthy food and even yoga classes. So I don't want you to worry, okay? Please take care of yourself and don't give Cho any trouble. Cho, if you're watching, keep an eye on him. And Rigsby and Van Pelt. Take care of each other, and don't forget that you're a family." She paused to take a breath, her expression changing from commanding to wistful. "Patrick, I miss you, and I love you. Whatever happens, please don't forget that." She wiped one eye. "I'll never regret marrying you, and I hope you will never regret marrying me. But this isn't goodbye, I hope. Be well, Patrick."

Jane let out a long, shaky breath and closed his eyes as the screen went blank.

Cho instructed, "Van Pelt, make some copies on flash drives."

"Yeah, okay," Grace said, her voice a little choked up. She wiped at her eyes and went to work.

Jane wanted to get up and go back to Lisbon's office, but he couldn't make himself walk away from his last sight of her. He felt like crying himself. He had coped so far by reminding himself that Lisbon was a highly trained, kickass agent. He made himself focus on the idea that woman being held was the one he'd seen take down ruthless criminals without a trace of fear, not the loving wife whose smile he cherished and whose soft caresses could make any horror fade from his mind. Who whimpered in her sleep when she had nightmares of her own but quieted instantly when he kissed her forehead and whispered "I'm here." Who would lie limp and sated in his arms after driving him out of his mind, her fingers stroking random patterns on his chest and making him grateful to be alive.

But although she'd started out in professional mode, she'd definitely been speaking to him as his wife at the end. And that tore at his heart. He hoped she was really as calm as she sounded. He needed to watch the video again, analyze her body language more closely when he wasn't overwhelmed with emotion. "Play it again," he said hoarsely.

Cho said, "Let's go to your place first. We'll put it on that big ass tv and look for details."

"Then let's go," Jane insisted.

Cho drove, so Jane used the time to replay Lisbon's words in his head. She would be trying to convey whatever she knew, though it seemed she didn't have a location. And she would have had to be subtle, knowing that if Red John suspected she was trying to tip him off he would either edit the video or not send it at all.

Her parting words bothered him. That wasn't a phrase she used. It was, in fact, Sophie Miller's usual farewell. Was that a message? Had he ever told her how Sophie said goodbye? He didn't talk much about his breakdown, and when they'd encountered Sophie he was only just beginning to confide in Lisbon.

Wait. Hadn't he talked about his breakdown during those dark days when he'd been selling the house? He remembered Lisbon's arms around his neck and her voice in his ear, uncertain and sad, whispering, "Tell me how to help you. Tell me what to say." And in the darkness, he'd tried to tell her that there was no helping him, that there never had been. Then she had brought up Sophie, hesitantly suggesting that they try to find her.

Even in his depressive state, Jane had known better than to mix his new relationship with Lisbon with Sophie and her unrequited feelings for him. "We said our goodbyes," he'd told her. "She told me to be well. I'd rather not let her know I'm not." Then he'd added, "That was what she said to me when I was released, too. 'Be well, Patrick.' Like she wasn't sure I would be. I guess she was right."

Lisbon had nuzzled her nose against his cheek. "It's not a weakness," she'd murmured. "Most people don't have someone deliberately trying to drive them crazy like you do. Most people couldn't deal with it as well as you do. I think you've done well, Patrick. And I think you will be well, because you won't let the bastard win."

_Right, _he thought. _We won't let the bastard win._ So what was the meaning behind Lisbon's allusion to Sophie? When they'd exonerated her for murder but revealed her scientific fraud, she'd been doing psychological research. But he bet Lisbon primarily thought of her in connection with him. His admission that he'd been committed had made an indelible impression, he knew.

If she was trying to give clues to her whereabouts, then alluding to Sophie was meant to lead him to a location. The university where Sophie had worked? That seemed possible, but unlikely. Still, it fit the other clues: a doctor, healthy food, yoga classes.

He became aware that Rigsby and Van Pelt were whispering in the back seat. He was annoyed until he realized they were exchanging theories about the video, too. "Speak up, Grace," he prompted.

She cleared her throat. "I was saying, at least he doesn't have her locked up in a cellar. But it's weird. It sounds like she's with other people, doesn't it? If it's just a yoga instructor giving her private sessions, why would she call it a class?"

Rigsby added, "And this doctor must be a friend of Red John's too. How many friends does he have? It sounds like a whole community."

"Visualize," Cho said. "That's why she told me to keep an eye on Jane. She knows she didn't have to tell me that. And that stuff about remembering we're a family, like we might forget."

Jane felt his heart speed up. "You might be right. She wiped one eye, but I don't think it was a tear. Hurry up, Cho. I need to watch that video again!"

mmm

Lisbon felt both hopeful and depressed when she went to her room after making the video. She took comfort in the knowledge that it would relieve Jane of his worst fears, but she knew she wouldn't get the same reassurance that he was okay.

There were fresh flowers in the vase, this time a showy arrangement with blue hydrangea blooms and white lilies. There was also a new note.

_Dear Teresa,_

_I was pleased to see you making friends today. But I was disappointed that you did not keep your appointment with Dr. Mitchell. She came a long way specially to attend to you, so it was impolite of you to waste her time. I'm afraid I must insist that you see her tomorrow._

_I would also like to make our communication more of a conversation. Please use the paper and pen to write to me. You may also write to Patrick, though I cannot guarantee timely delivery. I am sure you have things to say to both of us, and I think doing so will help you come to terms with the changes in your life._

_I wish you a peaceful night and pleasant dreams._

_John_

Lisbon grimaced, looking at the stack of expensive paper beneath the note and the ballpoint pen lying beside it. It was the refillable kind rather than the disposable ones she was used to. Red John definitely liked the finer things in life, she thought. But if he was hoping to seduce her with luxuries, he was headed for disappointment.

Did she dare skip the doctor appointment again? Did she dare go? What would Jane advise her to do? She didn't want to find out what Red John would do to punish her for disobedience, since it would probably involve curtailing what little freedom she did have. But if he found out she wasn't really pregnant, he would be even angrier, and he wouldn't have to be careful how he treated her. She really might be headed for that dark basement and a knife.

She recognized that wanting to keep the situation she was in from deteriorating gave him a hold over her, and that was dangerous. But Jane had told her to do whatever she had to in order to survive. She was sure he wouldn't want her to do anything to worsen her situation or make it harder to escape.

Picking up the pen and paper, she saw that a lovely wooden lap desk was resting against the bookcase. She might as well write the letter he'd asked for. Maybe he'd be pleased enough to let skipping the doctor again pass.

_John,_

_I don't understand what you hope to achieve by holding me here. I am not someone you can change. I know who I am, what I believe, and who I love. If you have watched me as long as I think you have, you must know that. What is your plan for me? For my child? If it is to further hurt my husband, then you cannot possibly expect me to cooperate._

_You're a smart man, and the smart thing is to let me go home. We can revive the deal you made with Jane—we leave you alone, and you leave us alone. You win the game. Think about it._

_Teresa Lisbon_

Then she decided to write a note to Jane, more to comfort herself than out of any hope it would be delivered.

_Dear Patrick,_

_I love you. I never said it often enough, assuming that you knew. But now I wish I had given you more times to file away in your memory palace._

_I know you remember telling me to be in the moment with you, so that a part of me was always there, loving you, no matter what. And I am there, now and forever. No matter what happens. Because despite everything you did that drove me crazy, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Please remember that._

_Love,_

_Teresa_

She wiped tears out of her eyes, annoyed with herself for getting so emotional. Then she got ready for bed, resolving to think of some way to find out how the security system was controlled in her wanderings tomorrow.

mmm

Jane had watched the video over and over, the television screen showing him details not apparent on the computer monitor. She wasn't reading a TelePrompTer or under duress—there was no telltale glancing to one side as there would have been if someone was threatening her. She seemed focused on her message, which told him she definitely was trying to give him a clue without anyone else realizing it. If only he could work out what it was. If only his sluggish brain would clear.

He was aware that Grace and Rigsby were back at work in the dining room, while Cho was poring over files on the couch behind him, no doubt making sure he didn't have a psychotic break. Maybe some tea would help, but he couldn't take his eyes off the image on the screen, evidence that he hadn't lost her yet, that he could still fix this if he was fast enough, smart enough.

Walking up to the television, he laid a hand on it, stroking a finger along the curve of her cheek. She was the best thing that could have happened to him after losing his family, and he would get her back or die trying.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he turned to find Grace there, holding a fragrant cup of tea. "Drink this," she said gently. "And no complaining about it."

Jane rubbed a hand down his face, surprised when it came away wet. Then he took the cup and sipped it. "Thank you."

Grace smiled gently. "You're welcome." Her gaze strayed to the screen. "At least she's okay. He hasn't hurt her."

Jane shook his head. "This is more dangerous. Hurting her would stiffen her resolve. Instead he'll lull her into a routine, a kind of normal life. Human beings are incredibly adaptable, you know. One day she'll wake up and forget to wonder what's going on in the outside world. If he's smart enough to give her people to care about and protect, she'll focus on that and gradually forget she wants to escape. Or tell herself that she can't because then he'd hurt them in retaliation. One day, she'll be there because she chooses to be."

"No she won't," Grace said firmly. "Because we'll find her first. I'm not having this baby without her godmother there." She patted Jane on the arm and went back to work.

mmm

Lisbon went to morning yoga, had juice with Allie, and then planned to go back to her room to pretend to nap. But in the hall, she was intercepted by two orderlies. "Ms. Lisbon," one of them said, "we're here to escort you to your appointment."

"I don't need an escort," she replied, hoping her alarm didn't show. "But thanks anyway."

They stared back at her. "Please don't make this difficult," the other one said.

_Oh, crap._ There was no way she could take them both, even if they were worried about not hurting her. "Fine," she snapped. "Lead the way."

One did, but the other walked behind her. She was well and truly trapped. What was she going to do? What would Jane do? He'd bluff his way through, she realized. Could she do that? Maybe she could refuse any blood work, make up an excuse.

In no time they were in the clinic. An older woman with short blonde hair smiled as she entered. "Ah, Ms. Lisbon. I'm glad to see you. Any problems? Nausea?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Lisbon replied, noting that her escorts had retired to the hallway. "I feel fine. I saw my own doctor right before I was kidnapped, so this isn't necessary."

Dr. Mitchell's smile didn't falter. "I understand that you want your own doctor. First pregnancy, right? But don't worry. I've lost count of the healthy babies I've delivered. You can change into a gown behind that curtain."

Lisbon scowled but decided to play along for now. She undressed and put on the gown, which was softer than the ones she had to use when she saw her own doctor.

Mitchell smiled encouragingly when she emerged. "Now, hop up on the table and let's get your blood pressure."

Lisbon climbed onto the exam table reluctantly. "Do you always work here?"

"No. This is a special favor for a friend. I have a private practice in San Francisco." The doctor efficiently took her blood pressure."Hm. A little elevated, but given your aversion to this checkup, I think that's to be expected. We'll want to keep an eye on it though. You've been eating normally?"

"Yes."

"Let's weigh you for a baseline." She gestured to a digital scale, and Lisbon got on it. She weighed the same as the last time she'd weighed herself, no surprise. The doctor seemed pleased with the number. "You're starting off at a good weight. Excellent. The information I have is that you're around seven weeks?"

"Closer to six, I think," Lisbon lied. The more time she could buy herself, the better.

"I'd like to get some blood and urine for analysis, just to be on the safe side."

"No," Lisbon said. "Look, no offense, but you're not my doctor. I'm being held here against my will, so I have absolutely no reason to trust you. I'm not letting you stick a needle in me."

Mitchell sighed. "I understand, but frankly, Teresa, you have no choice. Red John gave me specific instructions about what tests he wants run. He wants to be absolutely sure the baby is healthy. If necessary, I will restrain you."

"Fine," she gritted out. Tests would take time, right? A day at least? She would just have to come up with an escape plan faster than she thought.

She endured the blood draw, then obediently peed in a cup in the small clinic bathroom. "Can I go now?" she asked when she emerged.

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid," Mitchell said, looking sympathetic. It made Lisbon want to punch her.

"What else is there?" she demanded.

"He wants an ultrasound."

Lisbon frowned. "It's too early for that. Isn't it?"

"At six weeks, a transvaginal ultrasound should show us the gestational sac." She gestured to a nearby wand.

"No," Lisbon said. "No way. You are not sticking that thing in me." God, the gig would be up right here and now.

"I'm afraid neither of us has any choice."

"This is unethical and illegal," Lisbon said as the orderlies came back in. "I refuse this treatment. If you proceed, I'll have you prosecuted. You'll lose your license!"

"I have no choice," Mitchell repeated.

Lisbon struggled, but even with her training she couldn't escape the orderlies' hold. And to her horror, the table featured five-point restraints meant for use with mentally ill or strung out patients. Furious and frightened, she did her best to resist the probe, even though it made the discomfort worse. At least Mitchell didn't patronize her by telling her to relax.

"Ah," the doctor said after a moment. "There we are. Small, but all looks well."

Lisbon froze, staring at the screen. She couldn't make out what the doctor was referring to. Could she be making a mistake? Or pretending to find a baby for her own reasons?

"Right here," Mitchell said, pointing to a blob in the midst of the other blobs on the screen. "There he is. Or she. More precisely, the gestational sac containing the he or she. Based on this, though, I'd say you're closer to four and a half or five weeks."

Lisbon blinked at the screen. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Don't be embarrassed; it can be hard to pinpoint how far along you are in the early days," Mitchell said as she withdrew the probe.

Stunned, Lisbon remained on the exam table for a few seconds after the doctor released her. Then she fled back to her room, heart pounding, not caring that she was still wearing the exam gown. _Oh God. I'm pregnant. I'm really pregnant. Oh my God, what am I going to do?_


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Note: **I promise, I'm going as fast as I can to get through the separation, but my muse doesn't like to be rushed. So please bear with me! And thanks for all the reviews, speculation, and encouragement. You guys rock!

**Chapter 48**

Jane sat on the couch in Lisbon's office, thinking. Grace had pulled a list of all property owned by Visualize in California, but it was longer than Jane had expected. They couldn't cover half of it before word got around and the cult's lawyers blocked them. Even narrowing it down to facilities with known medical facilities didn't help much. It seemed Bret liked his minions in good health.

Lisbon's intent in quoting Sophie still puzzled him. Visualize's university offered a psychology program, but nothing like the research Sophie had been doing.

He had to figure this out. She was counting on him. Could they be wrong about the Visualize angle? Maybe Lisbon was referring to Sophie herself. Could she be in league with Red John? He didn't want to consider that, but he had to. He should at least try to eliminate the possibility.

Getting to his feet, he went out to the bullpen. "Grace, I need you to find—"

"Ah, Jane," Bertram said from his place near Cho's desk. "I was just asking about you. How are you holding up?"

Jane examined him for a moment before speaking. He'd never liked him, and now he suspected the man had lured Lisbon into Red John's clutches. "I'm still standing," he replied. "Fit for work."

"I'll be the judge of that," Bertram said, his expression crinkling with concern. "You shouldn't be working this case. None of you should. You're too close to it."

Cho said, "Nobody will go at this harder than we are. This is our case."

"But it isn't. It's a Missing Persons case, or, if it really is Red John, the FBI's," Bertram said. His voice softened with what Jane judged fake regret. "Lisbon was the one who gave the case up. It's too late to get it back now."

Jane felt a flash of rage, which he only partly managed to keep out of his voice. "Finding Lisbon is our case. If you try to take it away from us, I will go to the press and tell them you took your best team off their most important assignment, thereby endangering the life of a missing CBI agent. Who also happens to be my wife."

Bertram clearly realized that the media would be on Jane's side, playing up the fact that he had lost his first wife and child to the killer suspected of kidnapping Lisbon. No amount of explaining the reasons behind the rules would overcome that. "Now, let's not be hasty."

"In fact," Jane said, struck with a new idea, "I should go to the media anyway and ask for the public's help. It's possible someone saw something."

"In the middle of the night on a residential street with almost no traffic?" Bertram said incredulously.

"All the police activity had to wake someone up," Jane argued.

Bertram sighed. "All right. I'll see what I can arrange. But I have to go now; I have an important lunch to attend."

When he was gone, Rigsby said, "You really think someone will come forward?"

Cho added, "And not immediately be killed by Red John?"

"No," Jane said. "I'm not going to ask for witnesses. Even if they exist, it would be nothing but a dead end. Red John's too careful to have left a trail."

Grace frowned. "Then why go on TV?"

Jane put his hands in his pockets, trying for a casual air. "To surrender myself to Red John."

mmm

Lisbon spent the rest of the morning in her room. She'd taken a long shower, trying to scrub away the sense of violation from the forced exam, and then dressed before sitting on the bed, knees drawn up to her chest as she tried to think of what to do next. She tried to focus on what she'd observed and inferred about the facility, but her mind kept returning to the unexpected little life inside her.

The baby was a game changer in every way. She had to ensure any risks she took didn't endanger him or her. But at the same time, it was more critical than ever that she escape, because this child deserved better than to be born into a cult, possibly never knowing or even meeting his or her father.

Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought that Jane didn't know. She ached with the need to tell him, to see his eyes light up with joy and have him hold her close so she could rest against him and feel the reassuring thump of his heart. She needed to hear him say that everything would be all right, that he'd be with her every step of the way. She wanted to know that he would be there to help her sleep, to indulge her cravings, and to hold her hand and help her breathe when she went into labor.

Of course, that assumed she managed to carry to term. She had to be careful now. She could not be responsible for Jane losing another child, even one he hadn't met.

Her gaze fell on the stack of paper. Someone had removed the notes she'd written while she was out this morning, and she wondered if her letter would reach Jane. Maybe she should write him another one and try to tell him she was really pregnant?

No. That would only make him more frantic than he already was. It was better he didn't know until she was free again. Besides, she very much wanted to tell him herself so she could see his reaction. That would be a gift she hadn't expected to get, since she'd come to assume he'd know first. And he had, but the negative test result had fooled them both.

Why hadn't the pregnancy test worked? Had it been a dud, or was it too early? If it had come out positive, she'd be with Jane right now, on the run. She knew now that she would have done it, even though it meant endangering her team. The need to protect her child was overwhelming, superseding all other obligations.

A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. "Go away," she snarled. There was nobody here she was remotely interested in seeing.

The door opened anyway, so she jumped to her feet and moved to the bookcase, ready to grab the vase. Then she gaped in shock and took a step forward. "Sir!"

Bertram smiled at her, and she had a moment of profound relief that her captivity was at an end before harsh reality crashed in. There was zero chance that Cho would bring Bertram on a rescue mission, or any mission at all. And he looked completely at ease, obviously not on hostile territory.

"Good to see you, Lisbon," he remarked, as if they'd met at the coffee cart. "I hear you had a rough morning."

Her lack of privacy made her furious. Did everyone in this goddamned place know every single thing she did? "I've had a rough couple of days," she retorted. "So you took me out into the backyard on purpose? Led me into a trap?"

"Yes. It was laughably easy, really. I expected more of a challenge."

Lisbon was chilled by his casual admission of what was, after all, a massive betrayal. She remembered that Jane had taken an immediate, instinctive dislike to Bertram when they'd met, and also that Bertram had thoroughly creeped her out once by quoting William Blake. "You're Red John?" Oh God, if he was, he'd been the one fondling her feet and threatening to rape her. She wanted to throw up.

He gave a little chuckle. "Red John will reveal himself to you when you're ready. Which you most definitely are not. You need to learn obedience, Lisbon. Lose those bad habits you picked up from Jane."

She retorted, "Are you telling me if a doctor tied you to the exam table, you'd just lie there and let her do unpleasant, unnecessary procedures on you?"

"If I knew that's what Red John wanted, yes," he said. "There is always a price for disobedience. You are lucky he's willing to write off your little tantrum to hormones. Got a little too real for you, did it?"

_You have no idea,_ she thought. But she didn't answer, folding her arms and glaring at him.

"Well, come along." He gestured to the door.

"What makes you think I'm ever going anywhere with you again?" she scoffed.

"I just came from seeing Jane and your team. Come along and eat a good lunch, and then I'll tell you all about them." He smiled, confident in her answer.

She really wanted to say no, but the idea of hearing a firsthand account of Jane and the others was irresistible. Besides, she was eating for two now, and she shouldn't make the baby skip lunch. With a scowl, she marched past him into the hall.

If she was clever, she thought, she could at least get an idea of how far she was from Sacramento.

She didn't say much while she ate, but Bertram didn't seem to care, chatting about the most recent poker game, some fundraiser he'd attended, and general statehouse gossip. When she had cleaned her plate, he beamed at her. "Excellent. Now you shall have your reward."

"How is Jane?" she demanded.

Bertram shook his head. "He looks like a man living on tea and desperation. It's not a pretty sight. You should be glad you don't have to see it."

_If I was there, he wouldn't be desperate, _she snarked to herself. But she kept silent, wanting him to continue.

"He's not completely broken yet, though. When I said your case should go to Missing Persons, he threatened to go to the media and complain. I can only imagine what a PR nightmare he could cause if he set out to." Bertram shuddered. "He causes them often enough when he doesn't care."

_I hope he takes years off your life,_ Lisbon thought.

"And then he decided he should put out an appeal to the public, try to turn up any witnesses. If that's the best idea he can come up with, you'd best get comfortable here."

She was willing to bet her last paycheck that Bertram didn't know Jane's real plan. He wouldn't trust anyone other than Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt, especially if he'd figured out that Bertram was involved in her kidnapping. She was sure he had, but equally sure he wouldn't let Bertram know that until he was ready to pounce. "What about the others? Is Rigsby at work, or did he take Ben into hiding?"

"They're all fine, just worried about you. The video helped, though. Rigsby decided to stay at work after they realized the break-in was just a trap to catch you. Brilliant, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," she said sourly. "Is Jane sleeping at all?"

Bertram shrugged. "He mostly shuts himself up in your office. Who knows what he's doing in there?"

Lisbon felt a pang. She knew that Jane was seeking comfort in her space, and she could only hope he found some. "Is he eating? When did you see him?"

"I have no idea if he's eating. Your people are watching him like hawks, though. They all slept at your apartment last night."

Lisbon sent up a prayer of thanks that they were looking after Jane and obviously realized the worst possible thing would be to leave him to his own devices. He'd surely come up with a crazy plan that would end in disaster. "Have they caught any other cases?"

"No. I'm not sure any of them are actually fit to work at the moment," Bertram frowned. "So I have other teams covering new cases for the time being." He glanced at his watch. "I need to be going. But I'll see you soon. Red John has moved the poker game here so you can play at the level you're accustomed to."

Lisbon stared at him in astonishment. "Everybody in the poker game is with Red John?"

"Yes. Why did you think Mancini brought you in? There are some others who used to play but had to drop out, because we didn't want you to realize how well we know each other. They'll be glad to come back." He stood. "Make this easy on yourself, Lisbon. Not even Jane can get you out of this. But I think you'll see that life with Red John can be good. You can't go back to field work, obviously, now that you're the mother of such an important child, but Wainwright's position is still vacant. Once Jane is out of the picture, I'll be happy to give that to you."

She blinked. "I can go back to work?"

"Once you've seen the light, yes. And once the baby's old enough, of course."

"Why is my child so important?" she demanded.

He chuckled. "Red John will tell you when he's ready. Take care, Lisbon. I'll see you soon."

Lisbon went back to her room, more perplexed than ever. A new flower arrangement awaited her, but there was no note.

So, she thought. She was close enough to Sacramento that not just Haffner and Bertram, but everyone in the poker game, could make time to come here. Bertram had done it as a lunch, so it wasn't a long drive. Even though it was Sunday, which meant his schedule should be more flexible than a weekday, she doubted he would have devoted too much time to visiting her n the middle of the day.

And Red John apparently envisioned a future for her that included the CBI but not Jane. Did that mean Jane would be dead? Shut away after another breakdown? Fired for gross insubordination?

And what, in God's name, was Red John planning for her baby?

mmm

"You're nuts," Rigsby said, having swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and eyed Grace's salad despondently. "There's no way Red John will buy that you're giving up."

"Why not?" Jane asked. He handed Rigsby the untouched half of his sandwich. Chicken salad on a croissant had sounded edible, but it tasted like sawdust. He sipped at his tea instead. "Am I not a mere husk of a man, barely eating or sleeping? Everyone knows it was Lisbon keeping me sane. Without her, who knows what I might do? Why wouldn't I make any sacrifice to be with her again?"

Cho frowned, finishing his cheesesteak. "Okay, say you're convincingly pathetic. Then what? As far as I can see, all that accomplishes is getting two of you in trouble. Besides pissing off the boss."

"We have to figure out how to put a tracking device on me that won't be detected. Could I swallow one?"

Grace crinkled her nose in disgust. "That would only work for as long as it takes to work its way through your digestive tract. We could do a subcutaneous implant if we could find someone we knew we could trust."

Rigsby said, "Wouldn't it be easier to just stick a tracker on Bertram? I mean, if we know he's in on it."

"I thought about that," Jane admitted. "But if he found it, he'd use that to throw me off the case. I want to lull his suspicions first. That will also be achieved by my going on television and begging Red John to let me join him for the sake of my wife and child. He'll think I'm nuts."

Rigsby wolfed down the last of the sandwich Jane had given him. "Because you _are_ nuts. The boss is going to—"

"That's it!" Jane snapped his fingers, startling them all. "A mental hospital!"

His three companions looked at each other, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Fortunately, the cafe was so noisy that no one had even noticed, which was what they'd hoped for when they chose it.

"How is putting you in a mental hospital going to help?" Rigsby looked perplexed.

Jane failed to conceal his impatience as he explained how Lisbon had quoted Sophie, and then had to confess that he'd met Sophie in a mental hospital and that Lisbon knew it. "We know Visualize often works with addicts. And that they sometimes find them on the streets. Some of those people are almost certainly mentally ill, and their addictions result from an attempt to self-medicate. So it makes sense that they have a mental health facility somewhere. A ready made prison."

"Sure," Cho said. "But how do we find it?"

Grace had stopped eating, looking disturbed. "I'll search the state licensing records. Do you think there's more than one?"

"There won't be many, if there are," Jane said, leaning forward. "It'll be somewhere isolated, not on their main campus. Someplace the crazies can't disturb the illusion that all is well in Stiles' empire. Did we ever confirm that he is out of the country?"

Cho nodded. "He's been in Australia for a week. Expected back tomorrow."

Grace said, "I wish we could get the suspect list narrowed down. Isn't it weird that so many of them don't have alibis for the Red John murders?"

Rigsby nodded. "It's almost like more than one of them are guilty. Maybe there are a bunch of them, and Red John is just a name they use?"

Jane shook his head. "It's highly unlikely a group could all have the exact same cutting style. Maybe a master and apprentice could do it, but more than that...no."

"We know he has disciples," Grace said. "So why couldn't he have an apprentice?"

Jane leaned back, thinking hard. "It's possible, of course. But then why did he stop killing? He'd need to train his apprentice, so logically he should have been killing more often."

"Lorelei Martins," Cho reminded them. "There were differences, remember? That's why Moore thought it might have been you."

Jane nodded. "It's a theory. I've also been thinking, if Bertram is Red John, that explains why the killings all but stopped once he was put in charge of the CBI. He didn't want the CBI to look bad on his watch."

They all considered that for a moment. Then Grace said, "We should take another look at the photo of him leaving your apartment and see if we can match any physical traits with our suspect list."

Jane hadn't thought about that. He wanted to kick himself. "Yes." He stood. "Let's go."

mmm

Lisbon made herself go to Group Guidance again that afternoon, but it only confirmed her initial impression. Some of the members of the group might have doubts, but they were too cowed to express them in the group setting, and she was still a stranger. Moreover, she was a stranger under intense scrutiny. None of them were going to confide in her. She was on her own.

On her way back to her room after yoga and dinner, she wondered if any of her fellow poker players were a possibility. Bertram's betrayal still stung, and Judge Manchester and Senator Dawkins were probably indebted to Red John for their jobs. But maybe one of the lower level, occasional players would show up. She wished she could think of some way to use one of them to take a message to Jane, some invisible equivalent of a sign taped to their backs that said "Arrest me!"

She could slip her engagement ring into a pocket, probably, if she could only be sure Jane would search that person. Maybe if she used too much perfume, Jane would literally sniff out who'd been with her? But her sense of smell seemed to be more sensitive lately, so she would probably make herself sick before she could carry that out.

With a sigh, she went into her room. Immediately, the envelope propped up against the flowers caught her eye. Apparently Red John had something to say today after all.

_Dear Teresa,_

_I hope you enjoyed seeing a familiar face today. I thought receiving news of Patrick would outweigh your irritation with Gale._

_I appreciated the honesty in your letter to me. Your forthrightness has always been one of your most attractive qualities. And your anxiety about your child's future is certainly understandable. Let me put your mind at rest. I mean no harm to your baby. On the contrary, I have a brilliant future in mind for him. _

_I will be content regardless of the child's gender, but I confess I prefer a boy. Though I am sure any daughter of yours will be tough enough to fulfill the destiny I have in mind._

_Even a cursory study of history reveals that great leaders often fail to raise great leaders to come after them. I have several theories about this, but the points you will find most relevant are that I believe great leaders often have difficulty finding mates worthy of them, and for many of the same reasons, they often unintentionally stifle the qualities of leadership in their own children. I have built something I intend to endure after I am dead, but I must provide it with a worthy leader in order for that to happen. I believe I will do best with a child whose genes I am not responsible for. I have noticed, as I am sure you have, that many parents are unable to clearly evaluate their own children because they view them through the prism of their own ego._

_So I need a child born of parents whose qualities I admire, with a mother I can depend on to give him a strong foundation for his character in his early childhood. After long consideration, I decided that you are that woman. Between Patrick's wily intelligence and your strength of character, this child should be formidable indeed. With my hand to guide him, he will rise further than I have managed. I believe you will be as gratified as I when that day comes._

_So you should let go of your fears for your baby, Teresa. I will do everything possible to keep you both healthy, and I have no plans to take him from you after he is born. I will not even object to your telling him about his biological father. And if Patrick should someday come to enlightenment, I would be pleased to have him teach my heir his own particular skills. _

_Should Patrick join us, I would also not object to you resuming your sexual relationship and providing my heir with siblings. While I hope to enjoy you myself one day, I do not fool myself that we would be emotionally compatible in the long term. I yearn to break you for my own pleasure, but for the sake of my heir, I must not._

_I hope sharing my plans with you will remove your anxieties and enable you to more easily adapt to your new life. And I look forward to revealing myself to you someday soon and discussing the future we will build together._

_Regards,_

_John_

Lisbon put the letter down and curled up on the bed, her mind and stomach churning. It was all clear to her now. Red John had manipulated her and Jane into a relationship, then into marriage, as part of a breeding program to give him a worthy heir. God. It would serve him right if the baby had Down's or some other disability that ruined his plans.

Her heart clenched at the thought, and her hand went to her cross, clutching it tightly. _God, please, I didn't mean it. Please protect my baby. Please let us get home to Patrick and be a family. I promise I'll bring him or her up in the church. I'll get on my knees every morning and thank you for saving us. I'll do anything you want, just please, keep us safe and healthy. All three of us._

She wondered if Red John planned to use her and the baby as bait to lure Jane into his power. Of course, Jane didn't know the baby was real, but he might give up his freedom just to find her. While she was desperate to see him, she didn't want him to give himself up to his worst enemy. They couldn't depend on Red John's word, and Jane would be just as determined to get their child out of the killer's clutches as she was. And she had a feeling if they tried to escape and failed, Red John would decide he could no longer tolerate Jane's presence and kill him.

Hopefully Cho would be watching for a crazy Jane plan and be able to stop him. Or better yet, she would find a way out of here before Jane could do anything unwise.


	49. Chapter 49

**Author's Note: **Water-please kindly pointed out that in the last chapter, Lisbon's thought about the baby having a disability might offend some people. I want to apologize to anyone who was offended—neither I nor Lisbon meant any kind of disparagement or commentary! It was simply a thought I believed she might have, aimed at Red John's assumption that all would go according to his plan. But I have no children, so I'm not exactly an expert on the kinds of thoughts a pregnant woman might or might not have. Humble apologies if I left a bad taste in your mouth! This chapter is pretty harmless, I think. It was originally much, much longer, but I finally decided the second half had to stand alone. That's nearly done so it will be posted tomorrow. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this!

**Chapter 49**

"Are you sure about this?" Grace asked softly as they waited for Bertram to take his place in front of the cameras on Monday morning.

Jane nodded, swallowing down his nerves. He had once been comfortable on camera, enjoying the attention. And he'd gotten a little better over the years, even using television to manipulate Red John into killing Panzer. But going on camera to speak to Red John with his wife's life on the line produced more anxiety than he could manage with biofeedback.

Cho and Rigsby came back from their perusal of the attendees and shook their heads. They'd hoped one of their suspects might turn up out of curiosity. Well, Bertram was here, at any rate, and Jane was more convinced than ever that he was involved with Red John, if not the killer himself. He hoped the team would remember to watch his expression when Jane made his plea.

Ah, finally, Bertram was stepping to the podium and beginning his prepared statement. Agent missing, presumed kidnapped, if anyone saw anything please call the tipline, blah blah blah. Jane could hardly restrain his impatience as Bertram talked like this was just another case, like Lisbon was just another agent. "And now, Agent Lisbon's husband, Patrick Jane, would like to say a few words."

Jane was glad he didn't have to summon a smile as he took Bertram's place. "As Director Bertram said, I have the honor to be married to Teresa Lisbon. Some of you may be familiar with my story and know that my first wife and child were murdered by the serial killer Red John. We believe he is involved in Teresa's disappearance as well. And it's not just Teresa's life at stake, but also that of our unborn child."

He saw that he was getting to a few of them, hardened vultures though they might be. Good. He let emotion roughen his voice. "I can't lose my family again. I can't. And I will do anything to get them back." He took a deep breath, audible via the microphone. "So I have a message for Red John. I give up. That's what you want, right? I'll do whatever you want. Just give me back Teresa and the baby. That's all I care about. You know where to find me."

Bertram had stepped forward and was trying to jostle Jane away from the podium, his hand over the microphone. Jane let him, then shuffled dejectedly to the back of the room to stand beside Grace. She patted him on the shoulder while he hung his head.

Bertram was talking fast. "As you can see, Mr. Jane is distraught. We won't be taking questions. Thank you." He stalked over to them and growled, "Jane, Cho, my office, now."

Jane glanced at Grace, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and followed Bertram out, falling into step with a grim-faced Cho.

When they reached Bertram's office, Cho sat down as Bertram took his seat behind his desk and Jane prowled around the room, overtly agitated. "Why did you stop me?" he exclaimed.

Bertram spluttered for a moment. "Why did I stop an employee of the CBI from offering to join a serial killer? Have you lost your mind?" He rounded on Cho. "Did you know he was going to do that?"

Jane decided it would be better if Cho didn't answer that. "We're not going to find her with conventional methods. We need to think outside the box."

Bertram leaned back in his chair. "So this is a con? I should have known."

Jane shook his head. "It's not a con. I meant every word. There's nothing I won't do to get her back. Nothing."

Bertram let out a sigh. "I knew I shouldn't've allowed this. Jane, you're not fit to be at work right now. You're suspended. Indefinitely."

Cho got to his feet, cutting off Jane's protest. "Jane's our best hope of finding Lisbon. We need him."

"For his own sake, as well as the bureau's, I can't have him on the job like this," Bertram said.

"How am I supposed to keep an eye on him if you suspend him?" Cho argued. "You can't throw him out on his own. He'll get himself killed."

"No, Cho," Jane cut in. "You don't need to worry about me."

"The hell I don't. Lisbon's counting on me, and I'm not going to let her down." Cho folded his arms and glared at Bertram.

"Are you saying I should suspend you, too?" Bertram demanded.

"You do what you have to. But we're not going to stop looking for Lisbon, and we're not going to abandon Jane."

Bertram sighed again. Then he leaned forward, setting his hands on the desk and lacing his fingers together. "When you calm down, I hope you'll reconsider, Agent Cho. I'd hate to have to suspend the entire team at such a critical juncture. Jane, we'll keep you apprised of any progress in locating Agent Lisbon. Try to get some rest."

Jane leaned on Bertram's desk, fixing him with his best obsessive stare. "I promise you this: there will be no rest for anyone until I get my wife back. Feel free to pass that message along."

Then he turned on his heel and left.

Cho caught up with him outside the capitol building. "Nice work. Assuming you were trying to get suspended."

"It's harder for Red John to track my movements when I'm not at work," Jane replied. "Besides, after this, Bertram's going to give Lisbon's case to Missing Persons and suspend you if you try to keep looking. This way, you can stay on the job and have access to CBI resources, and I have the freedom of movement necessary to pursue unconventional lines of inquiry."

Cho frowned. "I can't have you out there on your own. I'll get suspended too, and we'll leave Rigsby and Van Pelt on the inside."

"That will tip off Bertram that we're up to something."

"It's you. He thinks that anyway." Cho paused, then asked, "So what's your play here? Should I be pricing out a mercenary strike force?"

"That would be a little premature, as well as unwise. We can't trust anyone, Cho.'

"So your endgame is me, Rigsby, and Van Pelt storming Red John's lair? You don't think he'll see that coming?"

Jane shook his head. "Killing Red John isn't going to depend on firepower, Cho. It's going to come down to who's smarter."

Cho was silent for a while. "I hope it's you."

_Me too,_ Jane thought. "I'm going home. I'll call you later."

"No way," Cho said. "I'm coming with you."

"There's no need," Jane said, but he knew it was useless. Cho was every bit as stubborn as Lisbon, and he wasn't easily manipulated. Besides, even though he'd told Cho the truth about firepower not being the determining factor in defeating Red John, it wouldn't hurt to have a reliable shot at his side.

They went to the CBI parking lot and headed for the Citroen. Jane paused, then took the piece of paper from under his windshield wiper. His breath caught as he recognized Lisbon's handwriting, and he closed his eyes after he read her loving words.

Cho pulled out his phone. "Van Pelt, pull the security footage from the lot. Someone left a note from Lisbon on Jane's car. Yeah. No, Bertram suspended him, and I'm keeping an eye on him. Call me if you get something. Yeah." He hung up and looked at Jane, then said, "You okay?"

Jane cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"She give you any clues?"

"No. Not that I can tell." He refused to let go of the paper, but he let Cho read it in case a clearer head might see something he hadn't.

"Sweet," Cho said. "But why?"

"Good question. Teresa obviously just took an opportunity to comfort me, but what's Red John's motive for delivering it? To make me miss her more?"

"Did that sound like a good-bye to you?" Cho asked.

Jane swallowed down his anxiety. "Maybe. But I don't think she meant it that way. I think she just wanted to tell me that in case it was her last chance. But she would have written a very different letter if she knew it was definitely good-bye." He jingled his keys in his pocket as he thought.

"Come on," Cho said. "I'm driving."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes, it is," Cho said. "You're upset. That's what Red John wanted with that note. So come on, I'm parked in the side lot."

Jane sighed, hung his head for whoever might be watching, and carefully folded the note into his pocket as he followed Cho.

mmm

Lisbon woke and lay still, hoping the nausea would pass and trying to distract herself with escape planning. She needed to think of an excuse to check out the food service and trash removal services. Those were the only ways she could think of to smuggle herself off the premises undetected; both must involve regular visits by large vehicles. She hoped she'd be able to work something out with the food delivery vehicles; the trash seemed both more dangerous and more nauseating.

Her thoughts about convincing the staff she needed a hospital had to be discarded. She couldn't risk sustaining an injury; anything too serious for the well-equipped clinic would endanger the baby.

She ignored the orderly who brought her breakfast, unable to contemplate food, even toast. Tears came to her eyes as she thought that Jane would know exactly what to bring her to settle her stomach, or he'd know some kind of trick to make the nausea fade. At the very least, his soothing voice would comfort her. But calling it to memory only made her miss him more.

Maybe it was okay to take the morning off. She could lull Red John's suspicions by pretending to be depressed. He'd surely expect her to go through that stage on her supposed journey to acceptance of the new life he planned for her. Which, she had to admit, wasn't as bad as she'd feared. But it was a long way from tempting enough to make her give up on her life with Jane.

Lisbon dozed off and on until Allie stopped by. "Hey," she said, "I got worried when you weren't at class. I brought you some ginger ale."

Sitting up carefully, Lisbon took the can. After a few sips, she started to feel better. "Thanks."

"No problem. Maybe we can grab lunch in a few minutes if you feel up to it."

"Maybe." Lisbon drank some more. "What do you do all day when you're not teaching yoga?"

"Depends. A few days a week I have classes at the university. Other days I help out around here with the administrative stuff."

"I hate not having anything to do," Lisbon said. "Maybe there's some work I could do here. I had a lot of paperwork at the CBI, so I'm good at that kind of thing." If she could get her hands on a computer with an Internet connection, she'd be home free in no time.

"I'll ask around, but that will be up to Red John." Allie sounded dubious.

Lisbon knew better than to push too hard. "And what do you do for fun?"

"Mostly I hang out with my boyfriend."

"And what's he like?" Possible ally, or just another Visualize drone?

Allie smiled. "Do you think you can get up? I'd rather tell you over lunch. Once I start talking about Tim, I can go on for hours."

mmm

Jane was so focused on the suspect list and comparing the men on it to the image they had of Red John that he could have gone all day without eating. But Cho had other ideas, and when Rigsby and Van Pelt showed up for dinner and began rummaging around in his kitchen, he decided he'd better reclaim his territory.

"How is Red John supposed to recruit me if you three are always hanging around?" he complained.

"He's not," Rigsby replied.

Grace nodded in agreement. "It's going to take more than just going on TV to convince him, don't you think?"

Jane grimaced, "It's been almost four days now. Too soon to resort to alcoholism?"

"Might be worth a shot," Cho said.

Jane's phone began to ring. He looked at it with a frown, then answered it. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jane, it's Bob Kirkland. How are you doing?"

Jane felt his eyebrows climb. "What can I do for you, Agent Kirkland?"

"As you know, we've been looking into Lorelei Martins' escape, and we think we've found an interesting connection with Visualize. We've identified both a guard at the prison and a transport driver who are members. But we're not having any luck questioning them. I wondered if you might try your hand at it."

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment," Jane hedged. "Perhaps you haven't heard, but I've been suspended."

"I heard," Kirkland admitted. "But I have quite a bit of leeway in this case. Give it some thought. If you're interested, we can meet tomorrow."

"I'll let you know," Jane replied, closing his phone and meeting his colleagues' curious gazes. "Kirkland has invited me to interrogate some Visualize members he thinks were involved in Lorelei's escape. Which I suppose means he's finally realized I had nothing to do with it."

"A trap?" Grace wondered.

Jane tapped a finger against his lips. "Possibly a ruse to find out how much I suspect about Visualize."

"Kirkland certainly matches the physical parameters we have for Red John," Rigsby noted.

"But Lisbon hasn't known him for years, and Lorelei was very clear about that," Jane pointed out. "Besides, he isn't the smooth operator I'd expect."

"I don't put much stock in what Lorelei said," Cho said, "and Kirkland could be a really good actor. Red John would know better than to let us see his real personality."

Rigsby said, "Can't we grab one of our suspects and have you hypnotize them to tell us the truth?"

Jane shook his head. "I doubt it. Red John knows a thing or two about mind games. Remember what he did to Kristina? And Lisbon? I bet he makes sure none of his people who come into contact with me are susceptible to hypnotism."

The oven timer went off, and Jane bent to retrieve his cheesy chicken casserole. He tried very hard not to think that Red John might be taking advantage of having hypnotized Lisbon once to mess with her mind now.

"So," Cho said. "Are you going to help Kirkland?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll sleep on it." Jane knew he was going to have to do more than catnap very soon. His brain needed deep sleep to function, after all. But he would need a sleeping pill to manage that without Lisbon's warm, soft body next to his, and he dreaded the nightmares he wouldn't have her to wake him from.

"You'll feel better after you eat," Rigsby said.

The rest of them might, Jane thought. But nothing would make him feel better except Lisbon back in his arms. Everything else was just a series of things to be endured.

mmm

Lisbon ended up spending most of the day with Allie, who seemed to have nothing better to do than chat. When they finally parted after dinner, she was exhausted, and she gratefully crawled into bed and fell deeply asleep.

She dreamed that she'd been working late and fallen asleep on the couch in her office. Jane came in and gently stroked her hair, whispering in her ear. "This is where you belong, Teresa."

Yes, of course it was. Except that when she fell asleep in the office, Jane always woke her and made her go home. That had always been true, even before they'd become involved.

The press of lips against her forehead made her smile, even as something set off alarms in her mind. The hand moving along her arm seemed wrong, lacking the sure touch she was used to.

_Sandalwood._ She snapped fully awake with a jerk, straining to see in the dark.

Her visitor chuckled softly and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Teresa." Then he was gone, her only glimpse that of a silhouette in the doorway.

Lisbon jumped out of bed and turned on the light, then sat and hugged herself, shivering. She'd let Red John's letter lull her into a false sense of security, believing he was only interested in her as the mother of his heir. The letters hadn't contained any hint of the sexual menace that she remembered from Red John's visit to the apartment. But his sneaking into her room while she was asleep and touching her revived all the revulsion and fear she'd felt then.

Grabbing her pillow and blanket, she went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She would sleep in the bathtub, if she managed to get any more sleep at all.


	50. Chapter 50

**Author's Note: **Here you go, one last chapter before my vacation. I hope not to disappear entirely for a week, since I'm sure I can find wifi somewhere in London. And I'm sure to have some inspiration, since there's nothing like a transatlantic red-eye in coach to get me in touch with my inner psychopath. Thanks so much to all of you who took the time to review the last chapter—without your inspiration, I think my muse would have curled up and died from exhaustion by now!

**Chapter 50**

Jane woke feeling wrung out, flashes of his nightmares vivid in his mind. But his head felt clearer, so perhaps the sleep he'd managed was worth the nightmares.

Going out to the living room, he was surprised to find Grace there, frowning intently at her laptop. She glanced up at him and said, "Morning. I made myself some herbal tea. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. Make yourself at home. Where's Cho?" Apparently he'd slept through the changing of the guard.

"He and Wayne went to work. I'm taking a sick day."

She did look a little pale, he thought. "Morning sickness?"

"All night sickness," she sighed. "I didn't think Wayne would be so freaked out, since he's been through this before."

He smiled briefly at her. "Every pregnancy is different, they say. I take it you've not eaten."

She shook her head. "It's all I can do to keep water down. This isn't going to last long, is it?"

There was a plaintive note in her voice that made him want to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be right as rain in no time. And you'll feel better once we've gotten something in your stomach. I'm going to make you some ginger tea, and then we'll see about some toast."

She sighed, obviously not attracted to the idea. "Okay. Hey, what's different about mental hospitals?"

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave?" he suggested flippantly, heading for the kitchen.

"I've been looking at the power bills for Visualize facilities, but nothing's jumping out. I thought a mental hospital would use more power per square foot than a regular hospital, what with the security measures. But apparently not, or at least not much," she explained. "And I already thought of looking into firms that supply security systems. But that doesn't narrow things down much. Visualize is pretty security conscious overall."

Jane put the kettle on and went back to the living room. "The drugs they keep in stock would be different. And they probably have a higher staff-to-patient ratio."

Grace frowned in thought. "I'm not sure where to look to find that out."

Jane hummed a little in agreement. "Maybe I should just go straight to the top."

"Stiles?"

"I'll give him a call. But first, let's get you fit for work, since I assume you will insist on accompanying me."

Grace gave him a too-bright smile. "You got that right."

mmm

Lisbon woke up stiff and cranky, but then, after spending most of the night in the bathtub, she hadn't really expected anything better. Rubbing at her neck, she opened the bathroom door, then gasped in surprise when she saw she had a visitor.

"Good morning," Kirkland smiled. "I thought you might like some company for breakfast." He gestured to the small table that had been set up, which held a mouthwatering selection of fruit and pastries.

He was wrong in more ways than she could count, but she decided to play along and see what he wanted. "Looks good," she muttered, running a hand through her messy hair. "Coffee?"

He held out a mug. "Decaf, I'm afraid."

She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her, but she tried to smile as she took the mug. "Thanks. So, it's your turn to tell me how great it is to let Red John tell me what to do?"

He chuckled. "Red John doesn't control my every thought and action, and he doesn't want that from you, either. You can have a normal life, Teresa. You will simply be asked to perform certain tasks from time to time."

"My normal life includes my husband," she reminded him.

Kirkland pulled out a chair for her and pushed it forward as she sat. "You can have him too, as long as he accepts the same terms. In fact, he threw the cat among the pigeons yesterday by offering to do just that."

She felt her stomach sink. She had always thought it was bad when Jane got into trouble on her watch, but it was so much worse when she had almost no news of his actions. "What did he do?"

"Held a press conference to surrender to Red John. Said he'd do anything to get you back. I guess you could call it romantic, if you like that sort of thing." He bit into a muffin.

Lisbon picked a blueberry out of her muffin and cautiously put it in her mouth. When her stomach didn't rebel, she took a bite of the muffin itself. She hoped Jane was working a plan and not really giving up in despair. "Can I see it?"

He pulled out his smartphone and played the video for her. She was mesmerized by the sight of Jane's worn, weary face, hoping it was at least partly an act. But her fists clenched when Bertram practically shoved Jane out of the view of the camera. She could hardly bear the thought that Jane was surrounded by enemies and didn't know it.

"So," Kirkland said when the video finished. "Genuine, or a con?"

Lisbon's fingers itched to grab the phone, but Kirkland swiftly put it in his inside jacket pocket. She pondered her answer. It was always chancy trying to judge Jane's sincerity, but she had no reason to tell Kirkland the truth anyway. With a sigh, she said, "If you're asking me if I think Jane would turn his back on everything else to be with me, then yes. He did it once before, when Red John made him choose."

Kirkland considered. "It's true he doesn't seem to be making much headway finding you on his own. I expected him to jump at the chance to interrogate some members, but he didn't."

His phone began to ring, and he pulled it out to glance at it, then smiled. "The man does have impeccable timing." He showed her the screen, where she read the caller's name: Patrick Jane.

Lisbon didn't think. She just lunged across the table, grabbing for the phone. As she landed half on the table and half on Kirkland, she heard dishes hit the floor, more joining them as they struggled. She let out a shout of frustration as she heard him hit the button to decline the call, but she didn't stop trying for the phone. If she could just get a call out to 911—

Kirkland dragged her off the table, and she fell to the floor, landing painfully on her hip. _Crap, the baby!_ she thought frantically.

He took advantage of her moment of distraction to pin her beneath him, his face flushed with anger. "That was very unwise, Teresa," he panted.

"Get the hell off me," she spat, frustrated and furious. "You better hope you haven't hurt my baby!"

"If I have, I'll just give you another one," he retorted. He shifted position, and she realized in horror that he was actually aroused.

She tried to draw in a breath, but his weight made it difficult. "That's not Red John's plan," she managed to say.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," he replied, but he got to his feet, taking a step back from her.

Lisbon scrambled into a standing position, edging toward the bookcase until she was in reach of the vase. She was panting for breath, her mind racing. "It was you. You broke into the apartment that night."

He straightened his tie, visibly struggling to calm himself. "Red John sent me to deliver his message. He wanted to frighten you into getting pregnant. And he knew I'd enjoy some time with you. You're a very desirable woman, Teresa."

Through her nausea and revulsion, Lisbon realized they shouldn't have assumed the intruder was Red John himself. It wouldn't be the first time he sent a proxy into a risky situation. But that meant Jane and the others were relying on clues that would only mislead them. "So you're what, his favorite pervert?"

"A valued associate." He'd regained his composure now, and his calm smile creeped her out. "We've known each other a very long time. I do things for him, and he grants me the occasional indulgence."

"You stay the hell away from me," she warned when it looked like he might step toward her. Then an idea occurred to her. "You raped and murdered Miranda Roman." That explained why the MO was radically different From Red John's. The discrepancy had always bothered her.

"That was one of the more enjoyable things he's asked me to do."

Oh, how she wished she had her gun. Or any weapon. But her struggle with Kirkland had revealed he wasn't carrying one. No doubt there were rules about bringing a weapon into the facility, just like all the dishes had to be unbreakable plastic. "Stay away from me," she repeated. "I never want to see you again."

"You should be nicer to me, Teresa. I'm on my way to see your husband, after all. And though he's not really my type, I would still enjoy hurting him."

Her breath caught in her throat. Kirkland gave her his disturbing smile again, then left.

Lisbon stared at the remains of breakfast. Well, someone would come clean it up, and she could go down to the cafeteria and have a hot meal. But first, she would leave Red John a note.

_John,_

_Tell Kirkland to stay the hell out of my room. I don't like midnight visits or wrestling matches over breakfast. They're not good for me or the baby._

As she started to calm down, she realized she'd never responded to his last letter. She had some things to say about his plans for her child, too.

_I am glad to hear you don't plan to kill us. Though I would argue that forcing my child to follow in your footsteps constitutes harm. I want my baby to grow into his or her own potential and follow their own path._

_Aren't there any potential leaders among your followers? Why take such a chance on my child? Or why not at least wait until after he's born and you're sure he's healthy? I'm still in my first trimester, when there's the greatest risk of miscarriage, and given my age there are other risks. What happens to me if your plans fall apart because of an accident of biology? Will you hand me over to Kirkland to be raped and killed?_

_Lastly, I saw the press conference. Don't buy Jane's act. He'll say anything to get me back, but we both know he's nobody's follower. He wouldn't last a week._

_Lisbon_

She folded the paper and set it beside the vase, feeling better. Let Red John wonder what she was up to with that last paragraph. Did he expect her to ask him to let Jane join her? If he did, he was the one who didn't understand love. She would do whatever she could to protect Jane and the baby, no matter what.

And now, she would go to the clinic and tell them Kirkland had assaulted her and ask them to check that the baby was okay. With luck, that would ensure Red John kept him away from her.

mmm

Jane handed Grace a sandwich bag full of crackers as they prepared to leave the apartment. "Just in case," he said. "We should get you some ginger pills while we're out. And Tums for when you can't manage to swallow a capsule."

"Thanks," she said. She sounded truly grateful, and he couldn't help reflecting that in this situation, Lisbon would have acted put upon or made a snarky remark about it all being his fault. "Sorry you couldn't see Bret Stiles today."

Jane shrugged. "We'll go see what Kirkland has for us instead. It's not as if Stiles is actually going to tell us where Lisbon is, but his answers may still prove useful. I can't ask him about mental health facilities without him suspecting that Lisbon tipped me off and moving her. So I need some time to plan anyway."

"While you're planning, please remember there are three of us on the job today," she said as he opened the door for her.

"Grace, you wound me. As if I would forget." He pretended not to notice her rolling her eyes, seeing no need to start an argument before she got behind the wheel, since his car was still at the office.

Kirkland seemed in a very good mood for someone with recalcitrant suspects, Jane thought. He didn't protest as Jane made a huge production of insisting his interrogation not be recorded or listened to and made Grace sit on guard in the observation room with a strict promise not to turn the sound on. He knew Kirkland would find some way around his precautions, though, so while he had the suspects in their trances, he was careful to confine himself to Lorelei's escape. He only allowed himself to show them Lisbon's picture on his phone and ask if they had ever seen her. Neither had.

Kirkland seemed pleased with the results, though Lisbon would have dismissed them as irrelevant since they weren't admissible in court. But maybe Homeland Security didn't care about such things. "Thank you, Mr. Jane," he said, shaking his hand. "I appreciate the help. Let me know if I can ever return the favor."

"Oh, I will," Jane assured him as they walked down the hall. Even with visitor badges, he and Grace weren't allowed to go anywhere in the DHS offices without an escort, so Kirkland was seeing them out.

They were in the lobby when a coworker hailed Kirkland, and he turned to respond. Jane's sharp eye landed on something, and he froze for a moment, then quickly brushed the back of Kirkland's collar. Pasting on a smile as the man turned, startled, Jane said, "Sorry. Dandruff. Appearances matter, you know."

Kirkland's smile still had that smug edge to it that was fast becoming less of a mystery to Jane. "Yes, they certainly do. Have a good day, Mr. Jane, Agent Van Pelt."

As they walked out of the building, Grace said quietly, "What was that about?"

"When we're away from here," he said abruptly, shoving his clenched fists into his pockets. "And sweep for bugs."

Grace's eyes widened, and she walked a little faster. When they'd reached the apartment and gone through their usual security procedures, Jane reached into his pocket and pulled out the long, dark hair he'd plucked from Kirkland's suit jacket.

Grace peered at it as Jane carefully untangled it, measuring its length. "Lisbon," she whispered.

Jane swallowed hard, but his voice was still hoarse. "We have to find out for sure, without anyone knowing. If it's hers, we have to find out where he was this morning."

"Right." Grace took a deep breath and laid a hand on her stomach as if fighting nausea.

Jane hardly noticed. His entire being was focused on that one strand of hair that looked exactly like his wife's. Was it? And if it was, what the hell had Kirkland been doing to get her hair on him?

If Kirkland wasn't Red John, he might have two men to kill.

mmm

Lisbon left the clinic with a reassurance that everything seemed fine, instructions to rest, and an appointment to see Dr. Mitchell the next day. Much as she loathed the woman, she figured any doctor Red John allowed her to see would be the same. And she did want to know that the baby was okay and what signs she should look for if it wasn't. It was amazing how attached she had become in just two days.

She grabbed a quick breakfast, relieved that the baby seemed okay with scrambled eggs and toast. But then, this was Jane's child, so eggs would probably become a staple of her diet. She'd be lucky if she didn't end up craving them at every meal. She wondered if she'd end up drinking decaffeinated tea all the time as well.

If she was going to rest, she needed something to occupy her mind. She went to the library, which fortunately was empty this time of day, and browsed the shelves. Most of the titles were self-help or Visualize dogma, but there were a smattering of biographies and even some classics. When her eye fell on _A Tale of Two Cities,_ she remembered that was the book she'd last seen Jane reading, either purloined or borrowed from Cho, who'd read it first.

She took it off the shelf, deciding she might as well read something that would remind her of home, even though she thought she remembered not liking it very much when she'd had to read it in school.

Then she decided if she was going to pretend to come around to Red John's worldview, she should read up on Visualize philosophy. She added a couple of Stiles' books to her armful, resigning herself to hours of annoyance in the name of research. But at least it would give her something to do while she avoided people.

She was beginning to wonder what was up with the parade of minions, anyway. Some kind of peer pressure? Was it meant to show her that if she gave in, she'd be among people she knew? Maybe Red John honestly thought that supplying her with a peer group, a new yoga instructor friend, the prospect of a promotion, and the promise that she could keep her child was enough to make her complacent, if not enthusiastic, about his plans for her. He'd even thrown in a promise that she could have Jane if he agreed to the same terms.

Or maybe he was just trying to make all this seem as normal as possible. She remembered Jane remarking once that it was amazing what twisted situations the mind could adapt to and come to see as normal and, in some cases, even desirable. Was Red John trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome?

Dammit, he'd already succeeded in getting her to view him as an ally of sorts. Her first action after Kirkland's departure had been to write to him and try to get him to intervene. Asking a favor from him was bound to end badly for her, sooner or later. She had to remember that she couldn't trust anyone here. None of them were her allies.

She wouldn't be bought, and she wouldn't be led astray by any of the mind games he was trying to play with her. She'd learned a lot about those in her years with Jane, after all. No matter what happened, no matter who tried to convince her differently, she was Teresa Lisbon, badass cop, devout Catholic, faithful wife, and expectant mother. And someday soon, she hoped, the woman who helped bring down Red John and every last one of his goddamned followers.

mmm

Cho and Rigsby met Jane and Grace for lunch at the apartment. Jane felt almost frenzied at the thought that he might finally have a way to get to Lisbon, so he fixed more food than even Rigsby could eat. They debated ways to test the hair without anyone realizing what they were doing, always coming back to the same unhappy conclusion: they were going to have to trust someone with at least a partial truth.

"We don't bring Lisbon's name into it," Cho said. "We just grab a sample from her hairbrush and ask the lab to tell us whether both samples are from the same person."

"If it's from us," Rigsby said, "people will know it's about Lisbon."

Jane stared disconsolately at his plate. Even fresh fruit didn't taste right. "And if they think we're onto something, they'll move her."

Grace nodded. "But even if the hair matches, how do we find out where he was? His phone is secure. I can't hack into its records and get to its GPS remotely."

"Maybe his car's GPS?" Cho suggested. "If we can find out what he was driving."

"If it's a fleet vehicle, we're screwed," Rigsby said. "How are we supposed to investigate a Homeland Security agent without getting caught?"

Cho frowned. Then he looked at Jane. "We need help. Stan Moore?"

Jane sighed. "I suppose he's the least of the available evils. If we could get him to run the hair for us, it might slip by unnoticed."

"But can we trust the results?" Grace wondered.

Rigsby leaned back in his chair. "We're going to have that problem no matter what lab we use."

"But if the sample isn't connected to us, our odds are better," Cho agreed. He looked at Jane. "You think it's hers. Why?"

"Kirkland was smug. He was way too happy for no reason." Jane clenched his fists under the table. "It had to be because he knew something I didn't."

Cho nodded, then looked at Grace. "Did you notice it too?"

"Well, he always gives me the creeps, so it's hard to tell. But yeah, he was in a good mood. Maybe it was because Jane got confessions, even though they'll never hold up in court."

Rigsby said, "Or maybe he just got some last night."

The growl that erupted from Jane's throat was purely involuntary. Rigsby must have realized what he'd accidentally implied, because he added, "I didn't mean, uh—"

"Stop talking," Grace hissed at him, so he did.

Cho said, "My point was, if you're sure, why risk testing the hair? It's not like it'll be critical evidence. If he leads us to her, that's enough evidence."

Jane looked around the table. He was suddenly humbled by their trust in him. "I'm sure."

"Okay then." Cho nodded. "Let's stop wasting time on testing and start figuring out how to track Kirkland."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Grace said, "Same problem. Anybody watching will assume anything we do is connected to Lisbon."

Jane added, "And if Red John thinks we're onto Kirkland, he'll kill him."

"If he's not Red John himself," Rigsby said.

"Could we use Moore, but not tell him the truth?" Grace wondered.

Jane said, "He was the one who asked us for help investigating Kirkland. But maybe..." He broke off, remembering Susan Darcy's ploy to investigate him. "If we ask for Kirkland's help investigating someone, we could keep an eye on him."

"Investigating Moore?" Cho suggested. "While Moore investigates him?"

Jane gave a weary grin. "Cho, I'm glad you're on our side. Perfect. Why don't you give Stan a call and invite him to join us?"

mmm

"Stan," Jane greeted his guest as he opened the door an hour later. "Welcome. I hope you're hungry."

Moore smiled, unable to conceal his surprise at Jane's seemingly cheerful mood. "Then you're in luck. So this is your place. Nice."

"Thank you," Jane replied. It was messier than he liked, since he was basically hosting an ongoing slumber party, but it was the home he'd built with Lisbon and he was ridiculously attached to it.

"Moore," Cho greeted him from his seat in the living room. He was dealing with a pile of paperwork, since Lisbon wasn't available to do it.

"Cho," Moore nodded in reply. "So. I assume you didn't invite me here to drink a few beers and watch the game."

Cho put down his paperwork and nodded to the chair beside him. "Have a seat."

Moore did so, looking around at them. "You have a lead?"

"We think so," Jane said, keeping his tone casual. "But we need your help."

Rigsby and Grace came in from where they'd been working in the dining room and sat on the couch. Jane decided to remain standing, hoping to dissipate some of his nervous energy.

Cho said, "We think Kirkland knows where Lisbon is. We need to make him tell us."

_Well, so much for subtlety_, Jane thought. But he was encouraged to see that Moore's startled look seemed free of guilt. "Or at least find out where he's been recently," Jane added.

"That won't be easy," Moore mused. "I have to assume we won't be able to get into his phone records or investigate him openly."

"Right," Grace said. "But I've been thinking. If I could get his phone, maybe I could get into the GPS."

Moore said, "The instant he noticed it was missing, he'd brick it."

Cho nodded. "So we have to make sure he can't do that."

Rigsby looked alarmed. "Whoa. Are we talking about kidnapping a Homeland Security agent? Because I don't want to go to prison. I have kids to think about."

A flicker of anticipation made Jane smile, just for an instant. "Nobody's talking about prison, Rigsby. If he doesn't know who kidnapped him, he can't prosecute us."

"I want Grace out of this," Rigsby said firmly.

"No way! This is for the boss," Grace retorted.

"I'm not having my kid born in prison!"

Cho said, "Van Pelt doesn't get involved in the kidnapping. We just bring her a phone. Actually, you can do that. Jane and I will handle the dirty work."

"What do you want from me?" Moore asked, wisely ignoring the revelation of Grace's pregnancy.

Jane said, "Just lead him into the trap. We're going to tell him we suspect you of being involved with Red John and ask him to keep an eye on you. So if you call and tell him you have a lead, it'll be easy to talk him into going with you."

Moore looked dubious. "Our cooperation on this investigation hasn't exactly been warm and fuzzy so far. What if he tells me to handle it myself?"

"He won't," Jane said patiently, "because he's one of Red John's followers, and he'll want to get rid of any evidence you find. Or, if he can't do that, get rid of you."

"Hang on a minute," Rigsby said. "If we're going to do this, I at least want to be sure. Let's test the, uh, evidence."

Cho and Jane looked at each other, then at their teammates. After a moment, Cho leaned forward and addressed Moore. "If we give you two samples to test to see if they're from the same person, can you do that without anybody suspecting they came from us, or are related to Red John at all?"

"I think so. I have a buddy down at Quantico who owes me a favor. What kind of samples?"

Jane drew out the hair he'd taken from Kirkland, now safely in a plastic sandwich bag. Then he took out the other bag, which contained hair he'd taken from Lisbon's brush earlier. He found himself oddly reluctant to part with them. "Put a rush on it, will you?"

Moore peered at the hair, obviously guessing whom it belonged to, and said, "You bet. It's going to take until tomorrow at least, though. So what kind of lead do I have on Red John?"

"I don't care. Something from the Lorelei Martins investigation, maybe. That would certainly pique his interest," Jane suggested.

"Okay." He swallowed, looking a little nervous. "When and where?"

"We'll call you when we get it set up," Cho said.

"It'll be in the afternoon," Jane said. "I have a meeting in the morning."

"Right." Moore stood up, his mind obviously already working out how to handle their requests.

Jane said, "Come into the kitchen, Stan. I wasn't kidding when I said there was plenty of food. It's always better to plot dubiously legal activities in the name of justice on a full stomach."

He gestured for Moore to precede him, then paused a moment to hand the cellphone he'd just lifted out of Moore's pocket to Grace before following him.

Twenty minutes later, Moore left the apartment with a full stomach and a cellphone that had successfully been cloned to one hidden in Grace's jacket.

"Can we trust him?" Rigsby wondered.

"We don't have to," Grace smiled, waving the clone phone. Then she sobered. "I wish we could do it tonight. I hate waiting."

Jane agreed wholeheartedly. But they'd known for years that Red John had allies in law enforcement, and their investigations into Visualize had proven the same of them. They had to move carefully rather than quickly. He knew Lisbon would agree, but that didn't make the waiting chafe any less.

He just hoped she was still all right, despite his nightmarish conjectures about how her hair had gotten onto Kirkland's jacket. But, he tried to console himself, if Kirkland had attacked Lisbon, he'd surely be sporting at least a black eye. Maybe he'd just sat down in a chair she'd recently used.

Or maybe he'd carried her lifeless body out to an unmarked grave.

"Come on," Cho urged him. Jane jumped a little, not having noticed him approach. "We have to find a good place to hold a prisoner. And buy some masks."

**Author's Note:** It's always bugged me that Lisbon and Jane so easily accepted that it was Red John who killed Miranda Roman without any discussion of the glaring difference in method. So this is how I worked it all out in my universe. Kirkland's awkward manner made him seem like a good candidate for that particular type of murder somehow. But I'm sure it will work out very differently in the show!


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all of you who sent me wishes for a fun vacation, especially those of you who warned me to pack warmly for London. I had hoped to write more while there, but I forgot how exhausting it is to be a tourist. I'm back now though, so full steam ahead! We're in the end game now.

**Chapter 51**

After spending the previous day holed up in her room, Lisbon was almost glad to go to her appointment at the clinic. Dr. Mitchell went out of her way to be reassuring, saying that if she hadn't noticed signs of a miscarriage by now, it was unlikely the baby had been harmed. "You can go about your normal activities. Just let us know if you notice anything unusual."

"Thanks." Lisbon turned to go, then paused. "Doctor, you're an educated woman. Can I ask what drew you to Visualize?"

Mitchell smiled gently. "My son died of cystic fibrosis when he was nine. I had to find something to believe in, since medicine had let me down. Brother Stiles' teachings helped me find my way back to a functioning life where I could help other people experience the precious gift I was given, even though it was for too short a time."

"And how did you become one of Red John's friends?"

"That is a little more complicated. The simple answer is that while Brother Stiles saw my loss as something to overcome, Red John showed me it was also a gift. I survived my worst fear. It made me more powerful, less fearful." Mitchell checked her watch. "I don't want to rush you, Teresa, but I need to get back to my practice. I had to reschedule several appointments to see you."

"I appreciate that," Lisbon said, surprised to realize she actually meant it.

"See you next week. If you have any trouble, let the clinic know. They can get in touch with me day or night."

Lisbon thought hard on the way back to her room. She could almost understand someone like Mitchell being attracted to Visualize in the midst of crippling grief, but how she had fallen in with a serial killer was much harder to explain. Lisbon had never understood how anyone, especially any woman, could find anything to admire about a man who took pleasure in killing women in a horrific way, making sure their last experiences in this life were painful and terrifying. And he'd even done it to an innocent child for no better reason than because he'd taken offense at something her father had said. What could possibly attract people to someone like that? Was it part of some twisted charisma, or were his murders something his followers overlooked because they found other things to admire him for?

If she had to meet Red John, she hoped she would at least get the consolation of figuring that out.

When she opened her door, she stared at the arrangement of sunflowers on the bookcase. It was by far the biggest one yet. She wondered if he was just trying to cheer her up or if they had some significance.

That was the kind of thing Jane would know. The pain of his absence pulsed for a moment, taking her breath away, before settling back to an ache. She closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths, then unfolded the accompanying note.

_My dear Teresa,_

_I was very displeased to find that my friend Bob behaved disrespectfully to you. You do not need to worry about him visiting you again. You also do not need to worry that he will come to the poker game tomorrow night. I want you to enjoy yourself._

_Succession is always a complicated issue, but I will try to satisfy your curiosity. There are several among my friends who doubtless think themselves possessed of leadership qualities. They may even be right. But even the most loyal among them has the occasional difference of opinion. I do not want my followers led astray, even in trivial ways, after I am gone. That is why I want to train a child from youth, to avoid outside contamination. Rest assured that your child will become the most powerful version of himself under my guidance, fulfilling all his potential. Can you honestly say that is not what you want for him?_

_As to the timing, that is more of your choosing than mine. Had I waited, there was too great a chance that you and Patrick would disappear. I would have preferred to wait until you had given birth and then evaluate the child's suitability. But this way, I can at least be sure of your health and safety. _

_I am pleased that you have displayed an interest in Brother Stiles' teachings. If you are interested, I can arrange for him to personally tutor you._

_I look forward to your next letter. In the meantime, rest assured that you are safe here._

_John_

Lisbon snorted a little as she put the note back down. _Safe. Yeah, right._

mmm

"We're good to go," Cho announced, hanging up his phone and looking around the table as they ate breakfast. "Moore's bringing Kirkland around three. You still want to go see Stiles first?"

Jane nodded. "It would be rude to stand him up when he's gone to the trouble of rearranging his schedule to see me." Besides, he didn't want Red John to realize he had an actual lead now. "I'd rather take Grace, though."

"Why?" Rigsby asked.

"He tried to get to her once before," Jane said. "He won't be able to resist trying again. It'll distract him."

"I can do that," Grace said.

Rigsby muttered, "Just don't let him mess with your head."

"Oh please," Grace scoffed. "After all the times Jane's messed with our heads, I can spot that a mile away."

Jane wasn't sure whether that was an insult or a compliment, but he didn't really care. He just wanted to find out if Stiles knew anything about Lisbon and then go kidnap Kirkland and get her location. After he got her back, he'd worry about taking down Red John and all his followers, even if that meant completely dismantling Visualize. His main goal in this meeting was to get an idea of whether that was what they were facing—and drop a hint that was what Stiles was risking in supporting Red John. It was a long shot, but maybe he could get Stiles to turn on the killer to save his profitable cult.

Of course, for all he knew, Stiles _was _Red John. In which case, violence would eventually be called for, certainly.

"Okay," Cho said, "that's settled. Van Pelt, keep a close eye on him. Our whole plan goes to hell if he's in jail for assault."

"Got it," Grace said.

Jane didn't waste time protesting that he had already figured that out. He was prepared to take any risk to find Lisbon except the ones that might keep him from actually getting to her, but Cho wouldn't listen to any promises about his behavior. From the set of Grace's shoulders as they walked to his car, she wasn't in a listening mood either.

Stiles had asked to meet in a public park, which had kept Jane's mind going in circles about what that meant. Did he not want to have Jane on Visualize property in case he figured out Lisbon was there? Or was this meant to remind him of the time Stiles had given him Kristina's location? He was pretty sure this wasn't going to be that easy. If Stiles handed him a piece of paper with an address printed on it again, it would certainly be a trap this time.

Grace frowned as they pulled up to the park. Jane looked at the large, grassy space full of kids running and shrieking and knew she was thinking that gunplay was out of the question in this environment. Of course, that went for Stiles and his people too, and Jane had no intention of letting this meeting devolve into violence. His interactions with Stiles had always been civilized, at least on the surface, and Jane knew enough about the cult leader to be certain that no threat would achieve his goal.

They spotted Stiles's distinctive white hair as soon as they got out of the car. He was seated at a nearby picnic table under a shady tree, a bottle of water on the table in front of him, looking relaxed. When he caught sight of them, he gave a cheerful wave.

"Patrick! And the lovely Agent Van Pelt, always an ornament to any occasion. It's good to see you, though I do wish it were under happier circumstances, of course. How are you holding up?"

Jane had always admired Stiles' way of turning any encounter into a series of barbs wrapped up in excellent manners. He decided against playing along this time, however. "Not well. I take it you've heard of my wife's kidnapping?"

"Ah, yes." Stiles shook his head regretfully. "And I had not even had the opportunity to congratulate the pair of you on your marriage. What a lovely couple you must have made. I confess, I was hurt not to be invited to the wedding."

"It was private, for security reasons," Jane replied, though he was sure Stiles already knew that. "I was hoping you might be able to help me again."

"Yes, I'm well aware I owe you a favor. And I would be delighted to deliver Agent Lisbon back to your waiting arms, if only to ensure my invitation to the christening. But I am afraid that is beyond my ability."

Grace asked, "How did you know she was pregnant?"

"My dear girl," Stiles said, smiling warmly at her, "I have so many friends in law enforcement. And they all know of my interest in the lovely Agent Lisbon and Patrick. And, of course, you. How have you been, Grace?"

"Fine," Grace said. "But I'll be better once we get Lisbon back."

"And I wish you the best of luck. But I'm afraid I have no information to give you about her location," he replied.

"Really?" Jane asked. "Because when I thought about the resources it would take to keep a trained agent captive for any length of time, your organization came immediately to mind."

"Now, Patrick," Stiles chided. "I realize you are under a tremendous amount of stress, but I hope you are not implying that I had anything to do with Agent Lisbon's disappearance. I was, as you know, overseas at the time."

"Yes. But you have so many friends, don't you, Bret?" Jane said, not trying to smooth the edge out of his smile. "And so many of them are in law enforcement. Perhaps you've heard something we haven't."

"I can assure you that no one connected with Visualize could use our facilities for such a purpose without my knowledge," Stiles said. "But, as you say, I have many friends. And what I have been hearing from them leads me to believe there is no intent to harm Agent Lisbon or her child."

"Our child," Jane cut in, feeling this was an important point. "It's my child too." He let his emotion begin to leak into his voice as he added, "I have had one wife and child taken away from me. I am sure you can understand that I will do anything to keep it from happening again. I need to be with my family, Bret. I don't care what it costs."

Grace gave him a concerned look and reached over to pat his arm comfortingly. Jane flinched away from her, but he was grateful she was playing her role so well. She turned to Stiles and said, "We all need her back. Maybe if you could tell us the names of some of your friends who seem to know something, that would help."

Stiles gave her a reproving look. "Now, Grace, I am sure you do not believe in betraying the confidence of a friend. Neither do I."

She shot back, "I wouldn't help my friend commit a crime by keeping quiet about it. Not if I knew it was hurting so many people."

"Oh? Have you never covered for one of Patrick's misdeeds, then, or told yourself not to ask questions? That seems unlikely, from what I've heard," Stiles said. He reached for his water bottle. "Do forgive me. I find long flights so dehydrating. I'm still trying to bring myself back into optimum balance after all the disruption." He took a few swallows, then said, "I really wish I could help you. But if there's nothing further, I must be going. I assure you that I will contact you if I come into any information about Agent Lisbon's whereabouts."

Jane knew it was time to play his final card. As Stiles got to his feet, Jane jumped up and grabbed his sleeve. "Bret, I need your help. I'm serious. I'll do anything. I'll join Visualize, I'll do whatever you tell me, I'll be Red John's new best friend. Just let me be with my wife. I can't go on without her. I can't."

"Jane." Grace was instantly at his side, taking hold of his arm as if to stop him.

Jane shook her off, changing tactics. "If I find out you're involved, you can kiss your snug little cult goodbye, Bret. Think about that. Think about where you want me—on the inside, happy and cooperative, or on the outside thinking up ways to make your life a living hell."

Stiles gave him a pitying smile. "I sympathize with you, Patrick. I truly do. And I hope you find Agent Lisbon soon. But if you don't, our doors are always open to you. We help the lost and broken all the time. I am sure we could help you as well." He drew his arm out of Jane's grip and added gently, "Farewell, Patrick. I'll be in touch if I hear anything useful."

They watched him walk toward a dark town car parked near the corner. When he was out of earshot, Grace said, "I think he knows something."

"I know he does," Jane said. "That means we're taking him down."

"Damn right," Grace agreed.

mmm

When they got back to the office, Cho met them in the bullpen with an abrupt, "We're a confirmed go."

Jane interpreted this as Cho-speak for "Moore called, and the hair samples matched, so we're definitely kidnapping a Homeland Security agent this afternoon." He nodded. "Looking forward to it."

Cho conveyed his low opinion of Jane's sanity with a look, then went back to what he was doing. Rigsby eyed Grace closely, presumably looking for signs of brainwashing, then asked, "How did it go?"

"We had a lovely chat," Jane said, adopting a breezy tone as he settled himself on his couch.

Grace said, "He totally knows something. But all he would say is that he heard there's no intent to harm Lisbon or the baby."

Rigsby snorted. "Guess that depends on what you mean by 'harm.' You sure we shouldn't try to follow him or something?"

"No grounds," Cho said, "and no chance we could pull it off without him finding out about it."

"Yeah," Grace said, "he made a point of reminding us how many friends he has in law enforcement."

Jane said. "If you want to run some searches on his travel history or anything like that, go ahead. It won't hurt to let them think we're distracted. But we need to focus on the plan."

"Right," Rigsby said. He seemed to have overcome his doubts now that they had solid evidence. He might be too rule-bound at times for Jane's liking, but there was no question that he was loyal to Lisbon.

They all were, which was why they were prepared to help him commit felonies to find her. But he needed to remember that Lisbon would kick his ass if he got them hurt or arrested. There was no room for error in what they were about to undertake. His plan had to work perfectly, for all their sakes—but most importantly, Lisbon's.

The first part of the plan was up to Moore, so it was the part Jane was most worried about. He could depend on the team to follow his instructions to the letter, but Moore was a wild card. He was young and bright and earnest, but cleverness didn't necessarily translate into the ability to deceive. Lisbon was proof enough of that, Jane thought, remembering with a pang all the times he had wondered in exasperation how such a smart and capable woman could become so awkward merely by speaking words that didn't fit her narrow definition of truth.

The memories were at once comforting and painful, but they kept him from getting restless as he and Cho waited in the abandoned warehouse Grace had found for them. Jane felt twitchy in his unaccustomed black clothing, complete with gloves and ski mask. Cho had insisted there be no visible means of identification when they confronted Kirkland. Though Jane was convinced that Cho would have no trouble becoming the kingmaker in whatever prison they ended up in, he could sympathize with the desire to avoid prison in the first place.

Moore was a few minutes late, just enough to make Cho shift his weight unhappily and Jane begin to wonder what in the world to do for Plan B. But at last they heard voices from their hiding place behind a stack of decaying pallets.

Kirkland sounded impatient and annoyed. Jane looked forward to making him even more so as the Homeland Security agent said, "You think this place is connected to Lorelei Martins' murder? The venue doesn't exactly scream Red John."

Moore replied, "I know, but we never found the murder scene, and we know she was killed somewhere before being placed at the church."

"Which is nowhere near here," Kirkland pointed out. "You're sure this tip wasn't a crank call? I don't have time to waste chasing down every—agh!"

He dropped like a stone as Cho tasered him. Well, a writhing stone, Jane amended, stepping in with the rag soaked in chloroform.

When Kirkland was safely unconscious, Jane looked at Moore, who was visibly nervous. "Now what?" Moore asked.

"Stick around. I may need you to pretend to be tortured," Jane replied, which dented the FBI agent's composure somewhat.

Cho grunted as he tried to lift Kirkland. "And I need help moving him."

Moore hurried to help as Jane took the infinitely more practical step of bringing the chair closer. Together they got Kirkland into the chair and tied him up securely. Then Moore went into the small office space at one end of the warehouse, careful to stay out of view of the window. Cho picked up a lead pipe he'd acquired somewhere and stood nearby, looking appropriately menacing, as Jane found Kirkland's phone and took it outside to where Rigsby was waiting to drive it to Grace, who was safely in the apartment. Then Jane went back inside and regarded Kirkland thoughtfully, going over his plan of attack in his head.

Kirkland came to slowly, but after one tug at the handcuffs around his wrists he was fully alert, looking around. When he saw two men in black ski masks in front of him, he started to laugh.

Jane had to admit to being taken aback at this reaction. "What's so funny?" he growled in the harsh, deep voice he was affecting for this con.

"Look, I didn't hurt her, all right? Whatever the little bitch said. But if this is my punishment for stepping over the line, then fine. Let's get it over with." His chin jerked up in a tic that belied his calm demeanor.

Jane thought rapidly. Did he really just confess to working for Red John? "We were told you might have forgotten who's calling the shots."

"No, I haven't," he said. "I just...lost control for a moment. She literally threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do? She was going for my phone, and she fell in the struggle. It wasn't on purpose, and she got right up, so I know she wasn't hurt."

"We're not interested in your excuses," Jane said, although he desperately was. If Kirkland had struggled with Lisbon, that explained how he'd gotten her hair on him. He'd probably ended up with several but brushed off all except the one he couldn't see. "That wasn't what you were sent there to do, was it?"

Kirkland started to reply, then paused. "Do you want me to recite my instructions?"

"It's not what we want that's important. You know that." Jane had to keep his focus on Red John and Kirkland's fear of what the killer might do if he decided he was a liability.

"Fine. I was just supposed to go chat with her over breakfast, try to make things seem normal. And that's what I did. She was all freaked out from something—she slept in the bathtub, apparently. But it was all going pretty well until her jackass husband called. She saw the name on the phone and came across the table at me, trying to take it. We ended up on the floor." He gave a sickening smile. "She sure felt good squirming around under me. But I let her go. So you can tell him that I didn't hurt her."

Jane's mind reeled as he processed this information. Dammit, he had called Kirkland yesterday morning, which confirmed this was Lisbon Kirkland was casually talking about knocking to the floor and enjoying her struggling. His fists clenched involuntarily.

He forced himself to calm down. Kirkland was obviously suspicious and trying to figure out if they were really sent by Red John. Behind him, he heard Cho shift his weight, making his leather jacket creak a bit. No doubt he longed to introduce Kirkland's smarmy expression to his lead pipe, but he would keep his eye on the prize. Jane had to do the same, no matter the provocation.

"What did she do?" Kirkland asked, a definite sneer in his voice. "Run crying to the doctor about her baby?"

Jane focused on being very, very glad that Lisbon wasn't really pregnant. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand listening to the man talk about knocking his pregnant wife to the floor. It was all he could do to remind himself how tough Lisbon was, how she regularly tackled men bigger than Kirkland and bounced back.

Her emotional state after nearly a week of captivity was another matter. "You were sent to make things better. Instead you made them worse."

"Yeah, and I'll apologize for that. But only to him. Not to you." Kirkland's smug air was back. He was going to see through this charade very soon; Jane doubted Red John punished his straying minions with a stern talking-to. And he had promised Cho they'd assault Kirkland only as a last resort.

"He's not interested in your apologies," Jane snarled. _And neither am I, you miserable excuse for a human being. _"But we recorded all this, so he can decide what happens next. You be a good boy and wait, and we'll let you know what happens next."

"This isn't how it works, you know," Kirkland smiled. "Who is it behind the mask? Jane? This sounds like one of your schemes. Do you know what the penalty is for kidnapping a federal agent? Two, if Moore wasn't in on it. You're never going to see your pretty little wife again, either way. But maybe you'll read about your kid in the newspapers when you're old and frail. Unless I decide not to bow to the new heir and take matters into my own hands, of course."

Jane had a sudden inspiration and yanked his mask off before Cho could do more than take a step toward him, arm outstretched. The agent kept his head and didn't speak, though.

"Do you think I care about prison?" Jane demanded. "I knew I was going to end up there or dead a long time ago. Either way, it doesn't really matter. What I do care about is Lisbon. You tell me where she is, or you become one more pathetic disciple who took his own life because he displeased Red John. I've seen enough of it to make it very convincing."

"Oh, I believe you're capable of cold-blooded murder. You proved that with Timothy Carter," Kirkland said. "But what about your friend there? Cho, I'm guessing? And what about Moore? You really think they're going to help you murder me?"

"Probably not," Jane said, though he wasn't a hundred percent sure about Cho. "But I don't need their help.'' He swiftly calculated how much time had passed. They had figured to need at least two hours to get the GPS coordinates from the phone and get it back here so that when Kirkland woke up in an alley, he'd never realize it had been missing.

"I'll tell you what. You untie me and slink back to CBI, and I'll write this off as the act of a desperate man. No charges." Kirkland turned his gaze to Cho. "For any of you."

Cho made no reply, apparently still hoping to salvage some of the original plan.

"I am a desperate man," Jane agreed. "Even more now that I've heard you confess to knocking my wife around. I think that's worth a lead pipe in the nuts, myself. But maybe I should go for something more lasting. Like breaking all the fingers on your gun hand, one at a time. You're not much use to Red John on disability, are you?"

"And I'm dead if I breathe a word about where she is," Kirkland pointed out. "So, stalemate."

"You're dead anyway," Jane said. "Once he knows I questioned you, he'll want to know what you told me. And he won't believe you didn't give me anything useful, intentionally or not. For once in your life, do the right thing, Bob. Tell me where she is. Letting me take Red John out of the picture is your only chance at safety."

"And how many poor fools have believed that line?" Kirkland shook his head. "You have a better chance of winning the lottery than killing Red John."

"Look," Jane said, "we already have physical evidence linking you to a kidnapping. Tell me where she is, and we'll call it even."

"If you had real evidence, you'd have arrested me," Kirkland replied.

"No," Jane said, "because if we arrested you, Red John would move Lisbon. Your big mistake was seeing me without changing clothes after you wrestled with Lisbon. Tell me, how did you come out of that without a broken nose?"

Kirkland chuckled. "Who says she wanted to hit me? She's lonely, you know. And all those pregnancy hormones can really crank up a woman's libido."

Only a lifetime of practice controlling his temper enabled Jane to refrain from punching him. Instead, he smiled. "That's no good, Bob. Even if that's true, I told Lisbon to do whatever she had to if Red John took her. If she tried to escape by making you think she wanted you, I'd only be sorry it didn't work. Now, are you going to do the sensible thing, or do I have to resort to less pleasant methods?"

"I'm not going to tell you where she is," Kirkland said. "Even if I did, you wouldn't be able to get to her. But I can tell you that she's fine. Her new life is a good one."

"All right then." Jane heaved a sigh of patently fake regret. "I guess we'll have to—"

One of the windows along the top of the warehouse walls shattered suddenly, and Kirkland gave a sharp grunt before slumping over.


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the kind reviews, despite the evil cliffhanger! Hopefully I have been a lot less evil this time...

**Chapter 52**

"Down!" Cho shouted, dropping the pipe and drawing his weapon.

Jane was already crouched on the floor, glancing at Kirkland, who was obviously dead from the gunshot wound in his forehead. He heard Moore emerge from the office as Cho ran for the door; the FBI agent followed.

It was only a few minutes before they returned. Cho said, "Gone. You okay?"

"Yes. Kirkland's dead." Jane turned away from the body in disgust.

"Shit," Cho swore. The three of them stared at the dead Homeland Security agent on their hands with varying degrees of dismay.

Moore swallowed hard and said, "He came here with me."

"Yeah," Cho said. "Let's cut him loose. You came here on a tip. You let us know and we met you here. A sniper took out Kirkland while we were talking. We call and report it."

Moore looked relieved until Jane said, "We can't do that until we have his phone back. If it's missing, Red John will figure out what we did."

Cho pulled out his phone and dialed. "Got anything? Well, hurry up. We have a problem." He frowned, then held out the phone to Jane.

Grace said, "I've tried all the likely passwords I can think of."

"Did you try 'John' on the numerical keypad?"

"Yes."

Jane looked at Kirkland. "Try 'smile.'"

There was a pause. Then Grace said, "That's it! I'll have it back to you as soon as I'm done."

"Sooner is better," Jane said, then hung up. He handed the phone back to Cho and said, "You should search the area."

"The sniper's long gone."

"But we need an excuse to delay calling it in. I'll search him while you two look around. Slowly."

mmm

Lisbon passed most of the day on her own, walking around the facility or reading. In the afternoon, she decided to write Red John a short note, because there was something she was curious about.

_John,_

_Why should I entrust you with the future of my child when I know, down to the smallest grisly detail, what you did to Charlotte Jane?_

_Lisbon_

She had just decided to go to sunset yoga tonight when a knock on her door startled her. Whoever it was actually waited until she said "Come in" before doing so, which surprised her. The realization that she had given up any expectation of privacy made her angry and a little afraid. She was not going to get used to this, she reminded herself.

Her visitor was an orderly she'd seen around, but he only handed her a note before leaving, determinedly uninterested in her. Apparently her habit of informing the staff that they were accomplices to kidnapping a state agent was wearing thin.

The note was in unfamiliar handwriting—not worth Red John writing it himself, she thought—and simply informed her that she would be dining in a private room on the ground floor at eight o'clock and should dress for the occasion.

Was this it? She couldn't think what would make Red John believe she was ready to accept him. Maybe something had happened?

Should she go? If she didn't, would she be forcibly escorted, like her first checkup? Better to play along, pretend to be resigning herself to this new life, she decided.

That meant skipping yoga, but she could go tomorrow morning. With a sigh, she went to the closet, trying to determine which of the dresses was the least flattering.

mmm

Jane had searched Kirkland, found nothing of interest, and exhausted his tepid curiosity about the warehouse long before Cho and Moore came back.

"Found the sniper's position," Cho reported. "For all the good it'll do."

"Definitely a pro," Moore agreed. He stared at Kirkland's body in something like despair.

Cho advised, "Just let Jane do all the lying."

"That won't help when my boss calls me on the carpet. Which she will. They knew each other."

Jane raised his head to look intently at Moore. "Who is your boss?"

"Regional Director Schultz." Moore seemed to sense he was on dangerous ground. "And no, there's no way in hell I'm taking you with me to talk to her."

"Why not?" Jane asked. "If they were friends, she might be one of Red John's friends too. She might have the information we need!"

Cho said, "Before we start talking about kidnapping an FBI director, let's get rid of the Homeland Security agent."

Moore muttered, "His corpse, you mean. And this is it for me. I'm not getting involved in anything to do with threatening my boss!"

They all tensed as they heard a car door slam outside. Cho drew his weapon and motioned for Jane to move behind him. Moore drew his gun as well, moving to the other side of the door.

Jane listened closely to the approaching footsteps, so he wasn't surprised when the door opened to reveal Rigsby. "It's just me," Rigsby said quickly. Then he frowned at Cho's lack of a mask and looked around, eyes widening when he saw Kirkland's corpse sprawled beside the chair. "Shit! What did you do?"

Taking offense at Rigsby's accusation would be a waste of time and energy, Jane reminded himself firmly. "Do you have the phone?"

"Oh. Yeah." Rigsby dug in his pocket and handed him the phone. "Since you were in a hurry, Grace just dumped everything onto her computer. She says it'll take a while to sort through it all though. What happened?"

Cho said, "Sniper. Moore, you want to call it in?"

"Yeah," Moore replied in relief, pulling out his own phone.

"Shit," Rigsby said again, watching Jane wipe off the phone, then carefully fit it into Kirkland's cooling hand to make sure his prints were on it before tucking it back into his jacket pocket. "What do we do now?"

"You get out of here," Cho replied.

"Was it Red John?" Rigsby asked. "Does that mean he knows? That he'll move Lisbon?"

Jane shook his head. "He might guess, but he can't know."

"He might still move her, just to be safe," Cho pointed out.

"All this for nothing," Rigsby said bitterly.

Jane felt panic claw at him at the thought. "No," he said. "Even if he moves her, knowing where she was will help. If it's a Visualize facility, I'll use that to lean on Stiles."

Cho said, "Get out of here, Rigsby. Go help Van Pelt. If this goes to hell and we end up suspects, we need you two on the outside."

Rigsby was obviously reluctant to leave his partner in a mess, but he saw the logic in Cho's order. "Fine. Call if you need help."

Jane couldn't resist saying, "Or bail money."

Rigsby made a face at him as he left, but he didn't object. Jane made a note to do something nice for him later. Assuming they all got out of this alive and free.

mmm

Lisbon was purposely five minutes late for dinner, making her feelings about being ordered around clear. As she paused on the threshold of the unexpectedly luxurious room, she was only mildly surprised to find Bret Stiles waiting for her.

"Ah, good evening, my dear," he greeted her. "Do come in. I'm pleased to find you looking so well."

"So are you Red John, or just another minion?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

"Please," he said with a pained expression, "minion is such a demeaning word. You should wait to see whether I have useful information before you begin insulting me."

Lisbon bit down on her initial retort. "So. How was your day?"

"That's better. See, not so hard now, was it?" Stiles beamed at her like she was his prize student.

His patronizing tone set her teeth on edge, but she decided to play along for now. He owed Jane a favor, after all. Maybe she could lay claim to it. Besides, something nearby smelled amazing. The food she'd been getting was nutritious but nothing like the mouthwatering dishes Jane regularly presented her. Apparently, she'd gotten a little spoiled.

"I would offer you a glass of wine," Stiles said, "but that would hardly be appropriate under the circumstances. What would you like to drink?"

"Just water," she replied. "So why visit me?"

"Why, for the pleasure of your company. And, of course, to assure myself of your well being. Patrick is so distraught. It's really quite distressing. I felt I owed it to him to check on you."

Lisbon couldn't conceal her eagerness. "You've seen him?"

"Just this morning, yes. He thought I might be able to reunite you. I truly regretted not being able to oblige him." Stiles paused as a waiter came in with Lisbon's water, followed by another with salads.

As desperate as she was for news of Jane, Lisbon hated to beg. Instead, she began eating her salad as calmly as she could.

"Are you not curious about our chat?" Stiles prompted. "Poor Patrick. He is not faring nearly as well as you. But then, he was so broken to begin with. It's good he has someone else to look after him. The lovely Agent Van Pelt was very attentive."

Lisbon set down her fork and said incredulously, "Are you trying to make me jealous of Van Pelt?" The idea was so ludicrous she wanted to laugh, but she managed to confine herself to a smile. Stiles couldn't know Van Pelt was in love with and pregnant by Rigsby and that Jane regarded her as a sort of little sister.

"Of course not. Why would I do that?" Stiles chuckled a little. "Though I must say I'm impressed by your faith in him. Many wives would dislike their husbands having such a close relationship with such a beautiful woman."

"I'm not worried," Lisbon said truthfully.

"Aren't you?"

"No." Even if Jane were the type to be unfaithful, and even if Van Pelt were the type to sleep with a friend's husband, she still wouldn't be worried, because they were both way too busy doing their jobs right now to have personal lives. That would remain true until they found her.

Stiles looked amused, as if he didn't believe her. "But he's cheated on you before. Quite recently, too."

Lisbon had forgotten that she was supposed to believe Jane had slept with Lorelei during the kidnapping. She looked down at her plate, appetite fading, and grimaced.

It must have been the right thing to do, because Stiles smiled. "Now, now, my dear, no need to fret. I'm sure you're right. You must have made certain he learned his lesson, yes?"

"Yes," Lisbon replied firmly. "How long do I have to stay here?"

He took a sip of his wine. "That depends on you, of course. I hope you are not telling me you have complaints about your accommodations."

"I do, actually. I want a lock on my door."

He shrugged. "That doesn't seem unreasonable."

"And I want to speak to my husband."

"Now that is harder to arrange. Though he did offer to become a member of my organization in order to be with you. I was touched." He leaned back, looking at her closely. "And skeptical. Did he mean it, do you think?"

"Maybe," Lisbon said. "Without talking to him, I can't be sure."

"Hm." Stiles began eating again. "That is too bad. I would very much enjoy having Patrick around. Ah, well. Perhaps in time."

He seemed almost wistful, and Lisbon began to wonder if that was something she could exploit, despite her earlier resolve to keep Jane away from Visualize. Was it selfish to think that she'd have a better chance at escape with Jane here to help? Didn't she owe it to her baby to do everything possible to ensure her father was part of her life? She turned the idea over in her mind as the meal progressed, paying just enough attention to Stiles' philosophical musings to respond when required.

When it was over and they were walking to the door, Lisbon decided to try. "You know," she said, "I've always thought people who have faith are happier than those who don't."

"That has been my observation as well," Stiles agreed. "It must distress you that Patrick remains so steadfast in his refusal to accept such comfort. Have you never tried to convert him?"

Lisbon turned her laugh into a cough. "I don't think the Catholic Church is a good fit for Patrick. He'll never believe he needs a priest to tell him anything."

"True," Stiles chuckled. "An intelligence such as his can be a curse as well as a blessing. You must be torn whether to wish it for your child."

And there was her opening. "I'm terrified," she said quietly. "I don't think I can raise this child without his help." She looked at Stiles, pouring all her loneliness and fear into it. "I need him with me. Please, Bret. I know you can help me. You're probably the only one who can."

Stiles gave her a sympathetic look. "I can't make Patrick into a believer, my dear."

"But you can. Give him the chance, and he'll pretend so he can be with me and the baby. Once he's here, who's to say the pretending won't become real?"

Stiles smiled skeptically. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he will work to destroy everything I've built."

Lisbon cast around for a response. "When he was assigned to my team, I thought he was going to destroy my career. But he didn't. When he's come close, he's always found a way to fix it. You just have to give him the right incentive." She laid a hand on her stomach. "And there's no greater incentive than his child."

Stiles looked searchingly at her, and she made herself hold his gaze. Then he smiled. "Well, you've certainly given me something to think about, Teresa. Good night."

As she walked back to her room, she wondered whether she'd done the right thing. But giving Jane an opening nearly always worked, and it wasn't like he was going to fall for anything Stiles told him. She hoped.

God, she hoped she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

mmm

It was full dark by the time Jane and Cho made it back to the apartment, weary and frustrated but at least not arrested. Jane thought things had gone reasonably well, all things considered. As long as Moore didn't crack under the pressure, they would probably get out of this unscathed.

Grace was curled up on the couch asleep while Rigsby rummaged in the kitchen. Jane immediately went to stop him. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Food," Rigsby replied. "Grace hasn't eaten. She wouldn't let me cook in here."

Jane felt a rush of gratitude to Grace. "I'll take care of it. She still having nausea?"

"She was okay for lunch. But a lot of times it's worse when she first wakes up."

"Okay," Jane said. "I got this. Grab a beer and relax. There'll be plenty to eat in a few minutes."

"Thanks, man."

Jane busied himself cooking the perfect pregnancy late night meal, trying not to get lost in the memories of doing so for Angela or his fantasy of doing it for Lisbon someday. This was for Lisbon in a way, though, since he needed Grace at the top of her form to find her. Which also, he realized, meant letting Grace get some sleep despite the way his nerves were jangling.

It was going to be a very long night.

mmm

By mid morning, even Jane's patience was wearing thin. Grace was doing her best, and Rigsby and Cho jumped at every task she gave them, but it was taking forever to go through the raw data dump from Kirkland's phone and match GPS coordinates with times and then look up the locations. Meanwhile, Red John had plenty of time to move Lisbon.

He'd had no word from her since the video, so he didn't know how she was holding up against whatever mind games Red John and his disciples were playing. And if Red John realized Jane was getting close, he'd surely ramp up his efforts to twist her thinking. Step one would be making her think she'd been abandoned to her fate and that their marriage was just a long con. There was, he knew, a tiny part of her that still wondered sometimes. Without him there to demonstrate otherwise, that part would grow, especially with Red John feeding it.

Unclenching his fists, he decided to brew some more coffee for the guys and some ginger tea for Grace while he decided what to cook for lunch.

mmm

Lisbon began her day with the dry heaves, unable to keep even water down, so she crawled back into bed to endure the misery. She didn't often indulge in self pity, but a few tears escaped her tightly closed eyes as she thought that Jane would probably know what to do to make her feel better. Even if he didn't have some magical recipe or special herbal tea, he could at least run his fingers through her hair and gently massage her scalp, all while murmuring soothingly into her ear. Or maybe he'd press his lips to her roiling stomach and whisper to the baby, making up silly stories about all the adventures they would have together.

She hoped he would be excited to be a father again. She thought he would, assuming they could avoid Red John's plans for them. But even if he had misgivings, she was sure he would do everything he could to make her pregnancy easier, and she desperately wished she were with him.

When someone knocked on her door, she didn't bother responding. There was only one person she wanted to see, and Jane wouldn't knock.

Allie opened the door a crack. "Teresa? You okay?"

Lisbon moaned, "Go away."

Allie came all the way into the room. "Morning sickness, huh? That sucks. You should take something. Can I get you some breakfast?"

"No," Lisbon replied, swallowing the urge to gag at the very thought. "It won't stay down."

"I brought some ginger ale," Allie offered, holding out the can. "Do you want to try some?"

"No!" Lisbon snapped. "I don't want anything. I just want my husband!"

Allie set the can down near the bed. "I wish I could help."

Lisbon lifted her head to look at the woman. "But you could. You could call him, tell him where I am. Please, Allie. I need him."

"I'm sorry, Teresa. But it would be the last thing I ever did." She did look sorry, but Lisbon could tell she wasn't going to help.

"Then just go away," Lisbon said, hiding her face in the pillow to hide her tears of frustration.

"Okay, okay. I hope you feel better soon. I'll come check on you later," Allie said as she left.

Lisbon tried to get herself under control. She couldn't afford to turn into a weepy mess, although maybe there was something to be gained by letting everyone think she was. Red John wanted the baby born healthy, so if he thought she needed Jane to get through a difficult pregnancy, he might see that she got him. And Cho would be watching Jane like a hawk, so rescue would be imminent.

Struggling to think through a haze of nausea and longing, she hoped she wasn't rationalizing. She put a hand over the baby and whispered, "Help me out here. I need to stay strong to get us home. I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure your daddy is one of the first people you meet. Just please, please let me eat something. Eggs maybe? Your daddy loves eggs. Or at least toast. We could try some tea with milk."

She lay still, hoping to feel well enough to go to the poker game this evening, where she could learn more about Red John and his disciples. It would be a shame to miss the chance to look for weaknesses or some way she could communicate with Jane. Obviously the first video hadn't been enough. If she did as told, maybe she could send another. Thinking up ways to convey more clues should keep her mind off her stomach, she thought hopefully.

mmm

"That's it!" Rigsby exclaimed. "I got it!"

Cho moved to look over his shoulder as Jane hurried in from the kitchen, dishcloth still in hand. "Where?" he demanded.

"It's a Visualize property," Rigsby said.

Grace elbowed him aside, taking over his laptop. "Kirkland was there from six to six-forty a.m. Rigsby's right—it's a property Visualize owns. Where did he go then?" She trailed off, then went back to her own computer. "Here it is. He was in his office about an hour later."

"Where?" Jane demanded again.

Cho was entering something on his phone; he turned it so Jane could see the location on his map app. "About fifty miles from here. I'll go to the office and get the rapid response team organized."

"If you do that, he'll get wind of it," Jane warned. "We need to keep this to ourselves."

Rigsby frowned. "Just the three of us? We better see what we're up against first."

Grace frowned at her screen. "Looks like Visualize has friends in the technology community. I can't see it on the publicly available satellite images."

"Looks like it's pretty isolated," Cho said. "Hard to get a look without being seen."

A man with lesser self-control would have been dancing with impatience, but Jane managed to keep still as he tried to think up a way to get a look at the facility. "If it's a mental health facility, there must be doctors going in and out, supply trucks, that sort of thing. If we intercepted one, I could hypnotize the driver."

Grace nodded excitedly. "I'll pull up satellite images of the main road going in."

Jane's phone began to ring. He thought about ignoring it, then decided not to. When he saw the caller's name, he knew he'd made the right decision. "Why Bret, good morning. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Patrick. I was hoping you might be free to join me tonight. It's a small gathering of friends, but I think you'll find it valuable."

Jane frowned at this unexpected offer. "I appreciate the thought, Bret, but I'm not much in the mood for socializing."

"Are you certain? There will be people there I'm certain you'll want to see."

_Can he really intend to lead me to Lisbon?_ Jane wondered. "Well, I suppose if you insist, I can make the time."

"Excellent. I will meet you at six at my office. And Patrick, I am afraid I must ask you to come alone."

"See you then," Jane said pleasantly.

"What was that about?" Rigsby asked.

"Bret Stiles invited me to a soirée," Jane replied.

"And you said yes?" Rigsby sounded incredulous.

"To allay his suspicions. It will buy us time," Jane said. "He's taking me to either Lisbon or Red John, if not both. I'll play along to distract them while you go in and get Lisbon."

"We don't have enough people to do that and back you up," Cho said.

"Don't worry about me." Jane waved a hand in dismissal. Rigsby and Cho exchanged glances.

"We need help," Cho said. "I need to make a few calls, see if the guys who helped with security at your wedding can get here tonight."

Jane nodded, but his mind was already miles away. _Hold on, Teresa. I'm coming._

mmm

Lisbon was able to keep down a light lunch, to her surprise and relief. When she returned to her room, she found a gorgeous arrangement of orchids and a note.

_My dear Teresa,_

_The comparison between our child and Charlotte Jane is not an apt one. The girl was merely one of a million average children being raised in ignorance of their true reality. My heir is infinitely more valuable and will be treated as such. Do not worry about his safety._

_I look forward to seeing you at the game tonight._

_John_

Lisbon crumpled the note angrily, disgusted at the killer's casual dismissal of a child as unimportant. "She wasn't average to Patrick," she muttered. There was no way in hell she was letting this psychopath into her child's life. She was getting out of here, somehow.

She had a small snack in the afternoon and managed to eat a little dinner before setting off for the ground floor. The poker game was being held in the same room where she'd met Stiles the night before. She was a little early, but she could already hear voices as she approached.

"Teresa," Haffner greeted her as she entered. "You know Judge Manchester, I believe?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding a greeting. She wasn't surprised to see the judge, but she was surprised a few minutes later when Alexa Schultz walked in with Bertram.

"Lisbon," Bertram greeted her. "Senator Dawkins sends her regrets and hopes to see you next time. And I'm afraid Bob Kirkland won't be joining us, due to his untimely death yesterday, which derailed my entire schedule since Jane and Cho were with him at the time."

"Are they all right?" she demanded.

Bertram's expression soured. "Neither of them were hurt. And as of an hour ago, neither of them had been arrested, though the FBI considers them persons of interest in the case."

"We certainly do," Schultz said. "Moore is lying through his teeth about what they were doing there, and so are your people."

"No doubt," Bertram agreed, taking his seat at the table. "Teresa, come sit down. How have you been?"

Reluctantly, she sat beside him, replying that she was fine. Haffner sat on her other side, and Schultz and Manchester on either side of them. That left two empty chairs across the table, presumably meant for Dawkins and Kirkland. Lisbon sighed with disappointment; there were no potential allies here.

Bertram declared himself the dealer for the first hand and began shuffling the cards. Haffner slid a stack of chips over to her; apparently Red John had contributed her stake. Well, if this wasn't going to help her escape, at least it was a way to pass the time. She might even enjoy it if she pretended this was a normal game and she was going home to Jane afterward.

She was contemplating her dismal hand when the door opened again and Bret Stiles said, "I see you've already started. I do apologize for being late."

Lisbon's glance at the new arrival was fleeting, but then she heard Bertram draw in a sharp breath and looked up again. This time she saw the person who'd come in behind Stiles and froze. Was she hallucinating? No, Haffner saw him too, because he got to his feet and demanded, "What is he doing here?"

Jane smiled lovingly at Lisbon for a moment before putting his mask in place and addressing the others. "I heard you were playing poker with my wife, which is a pleasure I have not yet had. So I accepted Brother Stiles' kind invitation. Do sit down; there's no need to get up. Unless you are offering me your seat, Ray, which I would greatly appreciate."

Lisbon jumped to her feet, only to have Bertram and Haffner grasp her shoulders and push her back into her chair. Her heart was pounding, threatening to leap out of her chest as she scrutinized Jane for clues as to what was going on. Was there a rescue in progress, or had he done something stupid? She desperately wished he would give her a sign.

"Now gentlemen," Jane reproved. "No need to be rough. She only wants a kiss. We've been apart for an entire week, and we are still in the honeymoon phase, you know." He gave her a wink as he settled into one of the chairs across from her.

Every cell in her body wanted to leap across the table. Lisbon tried again to get up, to no avail.

Haffner sat back down, dismayed to find that the cards he'd dropped on the table had landed face up. Bertram said, "Well. Now that we're all here, let's start over again."

"Excellent," Jane said. "What are the stakes? I'm afraid I didn't have time to obtain much cash."

Stiles was smiling, Lisbon noticed out of the corner of her eye. He said, "No need to concern yourself, Patrick. I'm happy to loan you as much as you require."

Jane looked around the table like a cat surveying a group of cornered mice. "I won't need much," he predicted. His eyes met hers again. "I hope you don't expect any special treatment, Lisbon."

She swallowed hard, trying for her normal tone despite the fact that she thought she might faint. "What makes you think I need any, Jane?"

Bertram chuckled. "I think she might surprise you."

Jane looked at his boss sharply, then returned his gaze to Lisbon, his genuine smile warming and calming her. "I look forward to it. Let's get started."


	53. Chapter 53

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in posting this—I didn't mean to leave you all hanging for nearly a week! I've had this chapter planned out for months, and then when I actually started writing it, something completely different happened. So that took some re-thinking. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the inspiring reviews of the last chapter!

**Chapter 53**

Lisbon folded quickly, her attention hardly on the game at all, Jane noted without surprise. Her wide-eyed looks in his direction had gone from shock to confusion to "Where the hell's the SWAT team?" If she knew the truth—that he'd come here without backup—she'd probably kick him under the table. No, she'd definitely kick him under the table. Hard.

He took a moment to suppress his giddiness at finally being in the same room with her again. If he touched her, he would lose all coherent thought, which was why he hadn't tried despite the pleading gaze she'd given him when he sat down.

"So," Jane remarked, realizing that even a toddler could win with his cards, "why kill Kirkland? Were you worried he'd talk?"

Schultz said, "He had become a liability."

Jane said, "He certainly threatened Red John's plans for Lisbon. She could never feel safe here after his assault."

Lisbon's mouth dropped open. "How did you know about that?"

"My love, I needed only one look at you." He'd tell her the truth later, he promised himself. But it was true he was reading a great deal from her, most of it reassuring. Red John had made no headway with her; she was still the Teresa Lisbon he knew and loved.

Encouraged, he turned back to Schultz. "But why a sniper? That was certainly more painless than he deserved."

"I knew him a long time. A little mercy seemed appropriate," Schultz replied with a shrug.

Lisbon looked sharply at her. "Mercy? He was a rapist and a murderer. Why should he deserve mercy?"

"Rapist?" Jane said sharply, before he could catch himself. No, he'd have known if Kirkland had lied about hurting Lisbon, and she wasn't showing any sign of sexual assault. He breathed in and out, hanging onto his composure and waiting for Lisbon to fill him in, as she obviously intended to.

"He raped Miranda Roman and left her to die. He admitted it to me," she told him.

"Ah." Jane acted as if he'd suspected it all along. He would have, after all, if he'd had time to give it any thought. "That explains the glaring difference in killing styles. Leaving someone to die of heat exhaustion is a very hands-off murder, about as far as you can get from the up close and hands-on method of cutting them up."

Lisbon nodded. "He also admitted it was him in our apartment that night."

Jane felt cold rage flash through him. "That makes me bitterly regret not castrating him when I had the chance," he replied.

Lisbon held his gaze, silently reassuring him that she was okay, though he could tell there was something she was holding back. Then she said, "There is one thing that puzzles me, though. If it was Bob Kirkland who killed her, why did she scratch 'Roy' into the warehouse floor? We know that's one of Red John's aliases."

Jane beamed at her. God, he loved this woman. Held captive for a week by a psychopath and his friends, she was still trying to solve cases. "It's a perfectly good alias. Why not share it?" He glanced around the table. "We may be sitting with several men who've gone by that name."

Bertram and Haffner remained blank faced, while Stiles gave a quiet chuckle and Manchester said, "Play or talk, Jane."

"I'm all in," Jane replied, moving his chips to the pot.

"I'm out," Stiles said. Jane had already figured out that Stiles didn't enjoy the game as much as he enjoyed watching the others fight to the death. Manchester and Bertram were overtly competitive, each needing to win for the sake of their own egos. Schultz was cautious and watchful, almost as tense as Lisbon. Haffner was harder to figure out; his posture was relaxed, but there was tension around his eyes.

_Which one is Red John?_ Lisbon didn't know, or she would have given it away by now. He must have been communicating with her indirectly. And it was definitely a he, Jane knew, because of the physicality of some of the crimes. Though Schultz still represented a threat, given her admitted involvement in Kirkland's death.

Jane savored the looks of defeat on Bertram's and Manchester's faces as he claimed the pot, sliding his original chips over to Stiles with a smile. "Thank you for the loan."

Stiles grinned. "At this rate, you'll be loaning me money before the night is out."

"Money is such a boring thing to play for," Jane remarked.

"Oh?" Stiles said. "What would you prefer?"

"Information," Jane replied.

Bertram rolled his eyes. "But you don't have any information the rest of us are interested in."

Haffner grinned. "Strip poker?"

"Gentlemen," Stiles reproved.

Schultz rolled her eyes. "Hardly the correct term for our present company."

Jane was delighted to find signs of friction among Red John's friends. "I beg to differ," he said indignantly. "I consider myself a gentleman. I'm sure my wife will vouch for me."

Lisbon's eyes glinted at the chance to tease him. "Of course," she said. "When you think it's in your best interest, you're a perfect gentleman."

"See if I open doors for you again," he teased her back.

"Oh please," Schultz said. "Do we have to listen to these two all night?"

"I agree," Bertram said. "More play, less talk. And where are the drinks?"

"Good question," Manchester said. "I'll check."

He went to the door and opened it. A moment later, an orderly wheeled a trolley in and began serving drinks. Lisbon ordered water, no doubt expecting to need all her faculties soon, Jane noticed. He had still not worked out what Stiles' motive for bringing him here was, so before she could lift the glass to her lips, he said, "Teresa."

The urgency in his voice caught her attention, and she looked at him, putting the glass down when he shook his head. He signaled for the orderly/waiter and said, "Take that away and bring her a bottle of water. Unopened."

The orderly looked to Stiles for confirmation, then obeyed. Lisbon questioned Jane with her eyes, frustrated that she couldn't demand answers aloud. He smiled at her and said, "You can't be too careful. I'll take an unopened bottle of water as well."

Stiles accepted his scotch with a smile, sipped it, and said, "Now Patrick. There's no need to be an ungracious guest. Poison would hardly fit Red John's style, now would it?"

"You tell me," Jane retorted.

"I just did," Stiles chuckled. "At any rate, I believe you have no need to worry about your wife and child. Red John has a specific purpose in mind, for which he needs the both alive."

Jane was impressed that Lisbon had managed to keep up the fake pregnancy during a week of constant scrutiny. She must have had a powerful incentive to overcome her natural honesty. "I don't find that reassuring," Jane said dryly. Just in case she needed the backup, he asked her, "How have you been feeling, love? Still having nausea?"

"Like you would not believe," she replied, sounding genuinely irritated. "This kid is definitely taking after you. High maintenance."

He grinned at her. "Sorry about that."

"No, you're not. But keep smirking like that and you will be," she warned.

Everyone had their drinks now, so play resumed. Jane pondered ways to flush out Red John, since his ploy with the waiter had revealed only that the man regarded Stiles as his boss. Which could mean Stiles was Red John, but Jane thought that unlikely. He was betting Stiles had brought him here to rid him of the serial killer because kidnapping a state agent placed Visualize at too much risk. Of course, it was possible he'd been brought here at Red John's order, either to amuse the killer or because Lisbon needed placating. Apparently this was a very difficult fake pregnancy. He'd have to remember to compliment her clever play when this was over.

He wondered how long it would take Cho to secretly put a team together to storm the place. Although he'd been correct that Stiles wanted to meet at his office to make sure Jane was searched and relieved of any weapons or tracking devices, it didn't matter. This was the location the team had come up with. Red John hadn't moved her, either because he didn't realize he needed to or because he didn't have a second place secure enough to hold a trained and determined agent.

It was only a matter of time. He needed to draw this game out, and if the cavalry hadn't arrived by the time it was over, he had to make sure he spent the night in Lisbon's room. He was sure he'd get all the help he needed with that, though. Lisbon was looking increasingly desperate to interrogate him. He was surprised it hadn't already occurred to her to fake illness so he could help her to her room. But maybe she was waiting for him to smoke out Red John first, or maybe she was worried he wouldn't be allowed to go with her. The fact that she'd been restrained from touching him argued for the latter.

What was that about, anyway? Surely there was no harm in allowing them a brief reunion. Was Red John still hoping to seduce Lisbon? That seemed unlikely, since it was Kirkland who had brought the sexual angle into the threat, and he wasn't Red John.

"So," he said, after allowing Bertram to win the next hand, "who's going to tell me Red John's big plan? Or do none of you know?"

Looks were exchanged, but Lisbon was the only one to volunteer information. "He wrote me that he manipulated us into having a baby so he could raise him as his heir. Apparently we have the right combination of desirable traits."

Jane sputtered with laughter. "Didn't you tell him how stubborn we both are? What are the odds any child of ours would be malleable enough to be molded into his image?"

"Pretty much zero," Lisbon said. "Don't look at me. It's not my stupid plan." _Speaking of stupid plans, where's yours?_ her expression added.

_Coming right up,_ he thought to her.

"Kirkland was a miscalculation," Jane remarked. "That's the problem with delegating. The errand boy is never as meticulous as the master. He was careful at our apartment, wiping off his fingerprints and such, but he didn't realize he was caught on camera. How do you think I knew to interrogate him about Lisbon's whereabouts?" He had to keep them from suspecting that the team knew anything about their location.

Schultz gave him a smug look. "For all the good it did you. He told you nothing."

"Not strictly true," Jane argued, plucking two cards out of his hand and discarding. "He told me many useful things, though he wasted a great deal of time trying to make me angry. If you'd been able to listen, you'd know that."

"I didn't need to listen," she replied. "The look on your face when you realized he was dead was enough. That was all I needed."

Jane kept his relief off his face. Red John definitely didn't realize they'd taken Kirkland's phone, then. That explained why Lisbon hadn't been moved. "If you weren't afraid I was getting close, why bring me here?" When no one responded, he continued, "Let me guess. Judging by the bruised look around her eyes, which tells me she hasn't been sleeping well, and how pale she is, you brought me here to look after Teresa." Jane shook his head. "What did you expect when you kidnapped a pregnant bride? Of course she was going to pine."

Stiles laughed. "Patrick, your romanticism is refreshing, but in this case it has led you astray. Teresa has been well looked after."

She didn't look it, Jane thought. He was trying not to distract himself by looking at her too often, but he couldn't help noticing that she was unwell. She couldn't be faking the nausea; she was nowhere near that good an actress. He wanted to snatch her up in his arms and take her home to tuck into bed, then bring her tea and wait on her hand and foot until she snapped at him to leave her the hell alone. Of course, that assumed she merely had a stomach bug and wasn't being drugged into compliance. But surely if the supposed baby was the real target, they wouldn't do that? He needed to get her to a doctor and find out.

First he had to get her out of here, though. He tore his attention away from her and back to Stiles. "Please enlighten me, then, Bret. I confess I haven't been sleeping well either, so I may not be as quick on the uptake as usual."

"You were partially right," Stiles replied. "Teresa would never settle into her new life while she hoped you would find her. I brought you here to demonstrate to her that the escape she was counting on is not going to happen. You might as well admit to her that none of your colleagues know where you are, despite Agent Cho's attempt to plant a tracking device on you."

Jane met her disappointed but unsurprised look. "It's true," he said. "They took my phone, the tracking device, and my gun before we got in the car." He wished he could tell her not to give up hope without tipping off the others, but there was no way. She would just be pleasantly surprised when rescue arrived.

"Patrick," she sighed unhappily.

"It was worth it," he said firmly. "I don't care where we are, as long as we're together." He looked at Stiles. "We are going to be together, I assume?"

"Certainly," Stiles said. "If you wish it. Of course, you could always choose to go home tonight, now that you have seen Teresa is safe and well. You won't find any evidence to make difficulties for any of my friends here. Either way, I will expect you to accede to our requests now that you know we can make Teresa's environment pleasant or unpleasant as we choose. Should we be forced to move her, I'm afraid she might end up very uncomfortable indeed."

"And you're the one who decides that," Jane remarked, glancing quickly around the table. Both Bertram and Haffner looked unhappy, but he couldn't be sure it was because they disagreed.

"Of course," Stiles said.

Lisbon looked distressed, and Jane was a little hurt. Surely she didn't believe there was any chance he was leaving without her? She put a hand to her mouth and tried to get up, but Bertram caught her arm. Jane put his cards down in alarm as she mumbled, "I'm going to—"

She threw up, partly onto the table and partly into Bertram's lap. He released her as he recoiled, and she ran for the interior door. Jane jumped up and hurried after her as she retched into the toilet in the small bathroom, and he immediately gathered her hair away from her face and reached for the nearby box of tissues. "Here," he said gently, handing her a few. "Done?"

She sat back, closing her eyes as she wiped her mouth. "Think so."

Jane flushed the toilet, then pulled out his handkerchief and ran some cold water over it. He wrung it out and pressed it to her forehead as he settled himself on the floor with her, drawing her into his arms. Lisbon turned her face into his neck with a little sigh, her arms winding around him and holding on so tightly he thought he might have bruises tomorrow.

"What's wrong, my darling?" he whispered into her hair, savoring the feel of her.

"Your kid hates food," she muttered.

Why was she still pretending? The others were arguing among themselves, not listening to them. He should be paying attention to what was being said—

Realization hit him like a punch in the stomach, and he drew in a sharp breath. Lisbon pulled back to look at him, wan and hopeful, so he swallowed down the panic and shoved his joy to the forefront, letting a big, goofy smile take over his face. An answering smile was his reward, and some color came back to her cheeks.

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I'm going to get you both out of here."

"I'm so glad to see you," she whispered back.

"I missed you more than you can imagine," he said, tightening his hold on her.

She tucked her head under his chin and said, "I missed you too. And I'd really like to see Cho. Where is he?"

Jane said, "He'll be here. Don't worry. How far along are you?"

"Five weeks, I think." Her hands fisted in his jacket. "They strapped me down and stuck this stupid wand inside me, and then the doctor started talking about a gestational sac and I wanted you there so much."

"Ssh." He stroked her hair, worried by the note of hysteria he heard in her voice. "I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

The door was flung open, and Bertram stepped inside, grabbing the hand towel, wetting it, and scrubbing at his pants.

"Nice aim, love," Jane whispered, scooting farther from their unwanted company and drawing Lisbon into his lap. She curled up as if to protect the baby.

The baby. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that they'd managed to conceive after all. By forcing Lisbon to pretend to be pregnant, he'd endangered both her and their child. He was not going to fail his second family like he'd failed his first, he thought fiercely. The protectiveness that surged through him was primal, an imperative that erased all other thought, and he buried his face in her hair and tried to calm down until he heard Bertram stop scrubbing.

Bertram was staring at them. "You know," he remarked, "I've never understood the two of you. How did you do it, Jane? A smart woman like Lisbon should have broken your nose the first time you laid a hand on her."

Jane summoned a cheeky grin but refrained from retorting that he hadn't needed to seduce Lisbon. She was miserable enough right now without him adding any stress.

Bertram continued, "All the times you've lied to her, gotten her suspended, and outright abandoned her, and she still trusts you, against all common sense. By the time I met you, it was already too late. What did you do to her?"

"That is the wrong question," Jane said. "The real question is, what did she see in me when everyone else thought I was too damaged to ever recover?"

"Well?" Bertram demanded.

"You'll have to ask her. I've never figured it out either," Jane said cheerfully.

Lisbon muttered, "Stop poking the bigwig, Jane."

"Oh, he's not a bigwig here," Jane replied. "Stiles has that covered."

Bertram's mouth twisted briefly. It was over so quickly that if Jane hadn't been watching closely, he'd have missed it. "Are you coming back to the game, Jane?"

"No. Lisbon needs rest, quiet, and some bland food," he replied. Her willingness to sit quietly with her face buried against his neck instead of engaging with Bertram worried him. If she was showing weakness, it meant she was even worse off than he guessed. But then, Lisbon was never sick, and she normally could eat anything at any time, even subsisting off vending machines for entire days before he'd begun to intervene. She probably had no idea what she should be eating.

"She's free to go back to her room at any time. You, however, are not," Bertram said.

Lisbon's grip on him tightened, and then she raised her head. "I'm okay," she declared. "I just need to rinse my mouth out."

Jane knew she was lying, but he helped her to her feet. Bertram backed out of the room to let her have the sink, and Jane rested a hand on her back as she bent over to scoop water into her mouth. She used his damp handkerchief to wipe her mouth, then turned to face him, trying for a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. We can go back in."

He smiled at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I know better than to argue with a pregnant lady."

Her smile broadened, reaching her eyes. He realized she hadn't let herself experience any of the joy of being an expectant mother; in her circumstances, the baby had merely added to her stress. But now that she could see his happiness, her own was bubbling to the surface. He wanted her to feel it, because it would help carry her through the tough times to come.

Their waiter/orderly approached Bertram and handed him a duffel bag. "Here you are, sir."

Bertram said, "Thank you. Jane, Lisbon, I need the room."

Lisbon nodded, and Jane caught her hand, twining his fingers with hers as they went back to the table, which now had a new tablecloth. A janitor was scrubbing the carpet beneath Lisbon's chair, using something with a strong bleach smell. Lisbon wrinkled her nose, so Jane drew her to his chair on the other side of the table, then claimed the one next to it. "Your sense of smell has gotten stronger," he murmured. "If something bothers you, breathe through your sleeve." He wished he had a second handkerchief to give her. He realized she hadn't been hiding from Bertram, but using his scent to calm her nausea.

Stiles came back to his chair at Lisbon's other side. "Ginger ale, my dear? You should have let us know you weren't well."

"I'm fine," she asserted. "The baby just got overexcited to see her daddy."

Jane chuckled at her uncharacteristic reasoning. He slid a hand over her stomach and murmured, "No more of that, now. If you make your mother sick at the sight of me, it will be very hard for me to take good care of her so you can get big and strong." He grinned at Lisbon, who was watching him with soft, wet eyes. "Not too big though. Mommy's pretty little, you know."

"Mommy can still put daddy in a very painful headlock," Lisbon muttered.

Schultz sat back down on Stiles' other side, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to be sick if they keep that up."

Jane said, "I'm happy to take Lisbon back to our room and leave you to it."

"Please," she scoffed. "The only reason you're here is because you think you can trap Red John."

"I am here," Jane said icily, "because my wife and child need me. I could not care less about Red John right now. The only reason I give him any thought at all is that he presents a threat to my family. If he struck a bargain with me to leave us alone, we'd walk out of here and never bother any of you again."

Lisbon snorted into her sleeve. "As if we could trust him."

Jane noticed Schultz's expensive perfume. "Do you mind changing seats?" he asked her. "Your perfume is bothering Teresa."

For a moment it looked like she would refuse, but Stiles gave her a pointed look, so she moved to the other side of the table as Haffner came back into the room with a bottle of Tums. "The clinic said these are safe," he said as he handed it to Lisbon.

"We'll also take that ginger ale," Jane said as Bertram rejoined the group, wearing clean slacks. "Are you playing, sweetheart, or do you just want to watch?"

"I'll play," she replied.

He smiled at her, pleased that she had her pluck back. "Excellent. Whose deal is it?"

mmm

Lisbon swallowed some ginger ale and popped a couple of Tums, hoping her stomach would settle. Jane's presence seemed to help, but maybe that was just because she was calmer now that she'd been able to rest in his arms for a minute. It felt so good to have someone to turn to; being on her guard every minute for a week was exhausting. And now that Jane knew about the baby, he would do everything possible to protect them both, no matter what happened. That burden was no longer just hers, and she was amazed at what a relief it was to share it.

Now she needed to help him work out who Red John was so they could come up with a plan. She could help, she knew, by drawing attention so he could observe everyone closely without them being aware of it.

"Red John never said if I get to name the baby, or if he plans to," she remarked.

Jane said, "It's a safe bet we won't be naming him John. Does the deal still hold if it's a girl?"

"Apparently," Lisbon said, when no one replied. "Though he wants a boy, just like you."

"I doubt he wants one just like me," Jane chuckled. "If you're referring to what I may have said for public consumption, I actually have no preference. A little girl with your eyes and smile would suit me just fine." He paused, then said, "Either way, this kid will be way too much for Red John to handle."

Haffner gave a half-laugh, half-snort. "Raised by you, maybe. But given proper discipline, the intelligence can be separated from the mischief."

"Spoken like someone who's never been a father," Jane replied. "Mischief is a critical part of a child's development. It tests boundaries, helps connect cause to effect, and encourages creativity."

Lisbon had a moment of panic, envisioning the mischief their child could get into with her father's encouragement. Oh God. She'd never have a moment's peace after the baby learned to crawl.

Jane laid a hand on her shoulder. "Relax," he advised. "You've had plenty of practice keeping me out of trouble all these years."

Bertram laughed. "You've been in trouble almost constantly since I've known you."

"True," Jane said, "but that's nothing compared to the trouble I would have been in without Lisbon's calming influence. So tell me, Gale, how did you talk Red John into slowing down once you became director so you wouldn't look like the world's most ineffectual bureaucrat?"

Bertram looked sour. "Red John doesn't get talked into anything. It was always part of his plan."

Lisbon said, "Like killing Lorelei? She really believed he loved her, didn't she, and he sacrificed her for no better reason than to make a point. Which didn't even work, because I know Jane didn't sleep with her when she kidnapped him."

"No, you don't," Haffner scoffed. "You believe he didn't, because he told you so. But you don't know."

"I know my husband," Lisbon said calmly.

"Can anyone ever truly know a con man?" Stiles mused. "I doubt he even really knows himself."

Lisbon looked at him. "That's where you're wrong. He's the most self-aware person I know."

"And do you give him credit for that?" Stiles asked. "Or do you acknowledge that Red John forced him to become so?"

Lisbon stared at him in consternation. "Red John had nothing to do with the person Patrick is."

"Now there's a delusion," Haffner said. "Admit it, Teresa: if Red John hadn't opened his eyes, he'd still be the same vain, selfish con man he was before."

"I don't think so," Lisbon said, cutting off what Jane was about to say. "Someone else would have opened his eyes. Because no matter how vain and selfish he was, he loved his daughter. And when she got old enough to understand, he would have changed for her. Red John was the vain one, thinking it was his place to teach anyone a lesson. And really, how shallow and insecure does someone have to be to kill an innocent little girl because of words? That's not power, and it's not wisdom, and it's not leadership. It's just vanity and cruelty, and the only thing to learn from it is that Red John has nothing valuable to contribute to society and should spend the rest of his life behind bars." She looked around the table at the blank faces and added, "And that is what I'm going to tell my child."

Jane was looking at their fellow players as well, but he moved his free hand to grasp hers, and she thought she saw him blink rapidly.

"Well," Stiles said into the stunned silence that followed, "it seems Red John greatly underestimated your loyalty to Patrick." He looked across the table. "Didn't you?"

Lisbon followed the direction of his gaze, feeling Jane's grip on her hand tighten as he did the same.

"Way to spoil the surprise, Bret," Haffner said dryly.

**A/N:** I wanted to respond to the reviewers who weighed in on the difference in MO in Miranda Roman's murder. It wasn't the rape that really threw me; I wouldn't be shocked to learn that Red John raped some or all of his victims, and they just don't talk about it in front of Jane, for obvious reasons. It's the killing method itself that bugs me. They point to two very different personalities, in my mind. Red John must get pretty bloody, given his cutting style and drawing the face on the wall. Leaving someone to die of basically natural causes feels more squeamish to me. And even if Red John knew he couldn't use his signature style, I'm betting if he'd done it himself it would still have been pretty bloody. I'm thinking it's more likely he outsourced it rather than debase his artistic integrity (ugh, I got nauseated typing that). Anyway, I greatly enjoyed reading your theories, and I very much appreciate your taking the time to share them with me!


	54. Chapter 54

**Author's Note: **I should warn you that this chapter ends with a cliffhanger (again). This should be the last one! But if you hate that sort of thing, you may want to wait until I post the next chapter, which I hope to do this weekend.

**Disclaimer:** It's been a while since I disclaimed, so here goes: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist and am making no money from this. I also know nothing about poker, having discovered at a young age that I lack the ability to bluff. I tried not to get into the details of the game, but please forgive any inaccuracies.

**Chapter 54**

Lisbon put a hand to her mouth and swallowed hard. Ray Haffner? How many times had she smiled at him as they chatted over a cup of coffee or quick lunch? She'd been betting on Stiles or Bertram. But it made terrible sense that Red John was a cop. He'd know how to immobilize people and what evidence the cops would look for, as well as how to avoid leaving any traces of himself.

Unless—maybe this was a misdirect? She clung to Jane's hand, pushing down her horror so she could focus on what was happening.

"So," Jane said casually, "you had to resort to kidnapping Lisbon since she refused your job offer? I imagine if she'd accepted, things would have gone far more smoothly for you. Too bad she can't be tempted by money." He looked at Bertram. "You must have enjoyed that little scene when you reassigned him after I'd demonstrated that Lisbon is the only person I will work for. He probably made you pay for it later, though. He enjoys manipulating you even though you're the one who's in authority. Does it work that way for you as well, Bret?"

Bret smiled. "I prefer to think not. Though I will admit that he had me fooled for several years. By the time I realized what he was doing, he had built a considerable following. I trust you will remain unswayed, Patrick."

"I can guarantee you nothing while my wife and child are in his power," Jane replied. "Let us go, and I promise you I will make sure he won't be a problem any longer."

"What makes you think he can? He is outnumbered here," Schultz pointed out.

Haffner chuckled. "Brother Stiles cares about Visualize more than anyone or anything. And he knows that if it is ever revealed that Red John is an influential member of the church, that will be the end. Whatever he hoped to achieve by bringing you here, letting you arrest me isn't it."

Jane's smile was chilling. "Given a gun and handcuffs, Lisbon would arrest you. I have no interest in that. All I want is a knife."

Lisbon squeezed his hand in warning. Just the thought of him carrying through on his old threat to cut Red John open and watch him bleed to death was making her stomach churn. If he got the chance to do it, she might never be able to eat again.

"Now, now," Stiles said. "Poor Agent Lisbon is not nearly well enough for this sort of talk."

"No, she's not," Jane agreed after a glance at her. He raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Sorry, love. Shall we call it a night?"

"But we're just getting started," Bertram said.

Haffner said, "Teresa is free to do as she likes. I'm not sure you are staying, Jane."

"Oh?" Jane said. Lisbon could feel his tension. "You have somewhere else in mind for me?"

Haffner smiled. "This is a medical facility. We have a medical waste incinerator on site. Very handy."

"No!" Lisbon choked. "Don't you dare. If you kill him, I swear I'll—" she broke off, swallowing against the urge to vomit again.

"Teresa, ssh," Jane soothed, sliding a hand into her hair and massaging gently. "Relax. He's bluffing. You need to stay calm, all right?"

She leaned against him, and he let go of her hand to put his arms around her. She was not going to let him out of her sight, she resolved. She would protect him, like she always did. And if Haffner wanted the baby, that gave her leverage.

She lifted her head and glared at the man she'd thought was a friend. "If you kill him, you won't get what you want. I'll find a way to kill myself before the baby's born."

It was a total bluff, but she hoped he wouldn't know that. Jane backed her up by sounding completely horrified as he said, "Teresa, don't talk like that. Ever. Do you hear me?"

"It would be better than being stuck here knowing I'm never going to see you again, watching him twist our baby into a psychopath," she replied, not having to fake a sniffle at the thought.

He kissed her forehead. "There would still be people who need you, who care about you," he said gently. "Bertram took you right from under our noses. I'm not the only one feeling guilty about that. Besides, you won't be stuck here. They'll find you. And Auntie Grace and Uncle Wayne and Uncle Kimball will have a blast telling the baby stories about his daddy."

"Tell you what," Haffner said. "You think playing for money is boring, so let's raise the stakes. If you lose the next hand, you lose a hand. Literally."

"No," Lisbon said firmly.

"Oh, I'm not going to chop it off in front of you," Haffner assured her. "It will be a surgical amputation. But if you want to keep him here, I need some way of limiting the mischief he can cause."

"No," Lisbon said. She looked at Jane. "You're not playing for body parts. Unless you want me to throw up on you next."

Jane smiled. "Relax, Teresa. I never gamble with body parts. Ray, really, if you want this baby born healthy, I suggest you stop trying to upset her. If she's having this much trouble at five weeks, that suggests a difficult, possibly high risk, pregnancy ahead. I need to be here for her. I know you've already figured that out, because you're not an idiot. I'm not going to try to escape or do anything that would put her at risk or upset her. You have all the guarantee you need right here. Now, please let me take her to our room, wherever that is, so she can get some rest."

"She's closer to six weeks," Haffner said.

"Really?" Jane grinned at Lisbon. "Looks like I gave you a bigger birthday present than I intended."

Lisbon felt herself blush. Yes, the dates lined up, and they'd had unprotected sex on that occasion. They'd remembered the condom for their first bout, but they'd gotten carried away for the second. While she would have preferred to think they'd made the baby during a romantic moment, she wouldn't trade the memory of that intense, raw passion for anything. The nausea gave way to a pleasant glow of arousal just thinking about it.

Before Jane could tease her about her blush, Haffner added, "And nothing points to a difficult pregnancy. Her age is the only real cause for concern, but she's very fit and in excellent health, so the doctor isn't classifying her as high risk."

Lisbon was disgusted at the thought of Haffner looking over her medical records—and ordering that humiliating ultrasound!—but she was more concerned that he seemed to be implying Jane's presence wasn't necessary.

Jane shook his head. "And this doctor has known her how long? A week? Ray, you know how Teresa is. She forgets to eat, she doesn't sleep, and she's the biggest caffeine addict I know. She's a mess of bad habits. Believe me; I've been living with them for six months now. This excellent health she's in is because I've been planning her diet, making her drink decaf, and ensuring that she sleeps at least six hours a night, when possible."

"That's true," she said. "My own doctor said marriage has been good for me. My blood pressure's down, and I gained back the weight I lost last year like she told me to."

"Besides," Jane said, "when the hormones really kick in, I'm going to have a full time job on my hands keeping her happy. I'll be too exhausted to make trouble."

Lisbon pinched him in retaliation, but he just smiled at her.

Schultz said, "If we're not playing poker, I'll be going. I have a breakfast meeting."

"All right," Haffner said, reaching for the cards, "these are the stakes: if Jane wins the hand, he can stay with Teresa tonight. If anyone else wins, they get to pick where he sleeps."

"Hm. Interesting," Stiles said.

As Haffner dealt the cards, Jane said, "So, Bret. If Ray here has so many of your followers on his side, aren't you afraid of a coup? Or that he'll arrange for your untimely demise so he can take over?"

"Ray has neither the administrative talent nor the ambition to run a global enterprise," Stiles said. "So, no. The church cannot be led by a man with such a blackened soul."

"Oh please," Haffner said. "You once called me the brightest of your spiritual children. Just because you don't have the stomach to confront the sacredness of death up close doesn't make you a better man. Even Jane has killed, though he didn't get his hands dirty. And he isn't afraid to get close to corpses." He looked at Jane. "Death fascinates you, doesn't it? Ever since you first caught the scent of your wife's blood, you've wondered about it, about what she felt and thought. You've felt its pull."

Jane cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice held barely controlled rage. "You know nothing of what I've felt. My interest in death is confined to yours. I've examined bodies to bring their killers to justice, because that was how I could remain with the CBI and hunt you."

"Fine job. Bravo. I've been right under your nose all this time," Haffner retorted. "You never suspected me. So much for your vaunted cleverness. This isn't a victory for you, Jane. You haven't caught me, and you can't kill me. But I can kill your second wife and child right in front of you this minute if I choose. Maybe I will. Though I admit I would regret killing Teresa. I hoped to restore her to the strong, rational person she was before you corrupted her."

Lisbon looked at her crappy hand, trying not to look as anxious as she felt. Jane was hard to beat, but it was possible, especially if he got emotional or distracted. And if he didn't win, she needed to. There was no way she would sleep tonight if they were separated. She felt panicky just thinking about it.

Considering her cards, her best bet was to occupy Haffner so Jane could concentrate. "You never really knew me," she claimed. "I haven't been corrupted. You're the one who messed with my mind. Patrick helped me recover."

Haffner scoffed, "So you're saying that if this had happened five years ago, you would have made the same choices?"

"Of course I've changed in five years," she replied. "I hope for the better. I know I've grown." And her relationship with Jane had been completely different then. Jane had been completely different then, less honest with her, less open. She didn't think they could have gotten through this if it had happened five years ago. They'd just been starting to get close, and he wouldn't have been able to love her like he did now.

Jane must have been thinking along the same lines, because he said softly, "I would have been a disaster for Teresa then. But it wouldn't have occurred to you to force us together five years ago. You only started thinking about that when you realized I was in love with her."

Haffner nodded. "Fair enough. I knew you were too selfish to put her safety above your own desire. How does it feel, knowing you condemned her to this?"

Lisbon hated this argument when it came from Jane; she hated it even more coming from Red John. "He didn't. You did," she snapped. "You are the only one responsible for your actions, Ray. If you're such a profound thinker, you should know that." She traded three cards, which marginally improved her hand.

Jane discarded only one, which made her nervous and hopeful at the same time.

Haffner said, "Justify it however you like, Teresa, but Patrick knows the truth. He knew what would happen to anyone he allowed himself to get close to. You are alive only because I like you."

Jane said, "And, of course, because you were enjoying my misery."

"I owed you some misery," Haffner agreed, "since you made a fool of me when we worked together. That was when I realized how far you would go for Teresa—and that you must have strong feelings for her. I was so delighted with that discovery that I didn't punish you for your misdeeds. I knew I would have my revenge, and that she would be the instrument."

Stiles folded, to Lisbon's dismay; he seemed like the only other one who might not want to separate her and Jane. Jane remained cool as ever, but Lisbon was shaken by Manchester's grin as he threw his chips into the pot. With less at stake, she would have folded herself, but she didn't dare.

When it came time to lay their cards on the table, she was elated to see Jane's straight flush. But then Haffner laid his royal flush down.

Jane stared at the cards. "You cheated!"

"You lost," Haffner smirked. "Get over it. Teresa, you may say goodnight now. Patrick will be spending the night in a padded cell, where he belongs."

"No!" Lisbon threw her arms around Jane, holding on for dear life. They would have to pry her loose by brute force, she resolved.

Jane put his arms around her as well, murmuring, "It's going to be all right, Teresa. Whatever happens, I'll be back for you. I promise."

Should she pretend to faint? Break out in hysterical weeping? She felt close to doing both. "I'm going with him," she told Haffner.

"Now Teresa, that wouldn't be good for the baby," he replied.

Bertram's phone rang, and he stepped away from the table to answer it.

"Do you want me to beg? I will. I'll do whatever you want!" she said desperately.

Stiles said, "This is heartbreaking. Two lovers so briefly reunited. Where is your sense of romance, Ray?"

Haffner rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Bertram snapped, "What? Well, stop them!" He listened for a second, then said, "I don't care! Evacuate the building, shut down the power, anything! Arrest Van Pelt for illegally accessing secure information—yes, I'm sure it's her! Who else would be trying to trace my phone from inside the CBI?"

Lisbon felt a spurt of hope and terror. What was Van Pelt thinking, doing something so obvious?

Haffner stood, annoyed. "Ladies and gentlemen, our game is over. Teresa and I must be going."

Manchester promptly headed for the door. "See you next time," he called.

Jane's embrace became near-suffocating. "Teresa's not going anywhere without me," he declared.

Bertram hung up. "What about me?" he demanded anxiously.

Stiles stood. "Don't worry, Gale. I'm sure we can think of someone you are here visiting. I'll stay and help with that. Alexa?"

"She's with me," Haffner said. He grimaced at Jane and Lisbon. "We don't have time to deal with this right now. Bring him along."

Jane gave Lisbon a reassuring squeeze as they began moving, but she saw the lines of tension around his mouth and was anything but reassured.

mmm

Lisbon and Jane kept one arm firmly around each other as they followed Haffner down to the lobby, Schultz following closely behind. They paused at the reception desk for Haffner and Schultz to retrieve their weapons from a safe, then went outside to a waiting limo.

Jane was thinking hard, putting pieces together. His first impulse was to delay their departure, since he knew the team had this location. But then why would Van Pelt track Bertram's phone and fail to cover her tracks? Was Cho flushing them out? They'd be easier to get to on the road than in a secure building. That had to be it.

The driver remained in the car, but a depressingly muscular guard was holding the back door open for them. That made four people he'd have to worry about when the team made their move. The others didn't know Lisbon was pregnant, so there might be more risk in their plan than Jane was prepared to tolerate. He'd have to focus on keeping Lisbon and the baby safe.

Haffner and Schultz claimed the back seat, leaving the backward-facing seat for Jane and Lisbon. Jane frowned in concern as Lisbon settled herself, asking, "Will you be okay riding backward?"

Haffner said, "Alexa, change places with her."

"No," Lisbon said quickly. "I'm fine here." She reached for Jane's hand as the car door closed.

"Seat belt," Jane prompted her. He fastened his own, knowing that would make her far more likely to comply. She did, reluctantly letting go of his hand. Jane took the opportunity to fiddle with his wedding ring, betting Haffner had noticed such an obvious tell when they worked together.

Unfortunately, Lisbon was also familiar with it, and the sign that he was uncomfortable made her anxious. When she slid her hand over his, he twined their fingers together to reassure her.

Stiles had blindfolded him for the drive here, but he remembered a long road with no other traffic. The team would make their move before they got anywhere near innocent bystanders. He hoped Grace was okay, but reflected that whatever was happening at CBI, she was surely safer than being in the thick of whatever was about to happen. He didn't have to fake his anxiety when he thought of his pregnant wife in a crossfire.

They'd been on the road about fifteen minutes when the car swerved slightly, then rumbled to a rough stop.

"What happened?" Haffner demanded.

"Flat tire," the driver replied.

"I don't feel so well," Lisbon murmured.

"Fabulous," Schultz sighed.

Jane said, "Can we get out? The fresh air might help her." He took off his seatbelt hopefully.

Haffner drew his gun. "She can. You stay put. If she wanders off, I'll act accordingly. Alexa, go with her."

"Go on," Jane encouraged Lisbon. _Get away,_ he thought to her.

Her mulish expression told him she had no intention of leaving him behind, but she was definitely nauseated again, so she undid her seatbelt and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding out of the car to join Schultz.

"So," Jane said, looking at Haffner, "what's next? The Visualize version of an oubliette?"

"We have a meditation center in the mountains, very remote," Haffner said.

"Sounds scenic," Jane said cheerfully. "Better than a padded cell any—"

He broke off as a shot shattered the rear window. Jane, less surprised than Haffner, dove for the open car door and went sprawling onto the asphalt as Haffner fired just over his head. Jane kicked the door shut and scrambled into the darkness, toward the sound of a nearby scuffle. Damn it, didn't Lisbon know better than to get into a fight with a baby to protect?

There was only a half moon, so he couldn't see very well, but he recognized the cry of pain he heard as Lisbon's. Before he could reach her, an unfamiliar cry followed, and the car door swung open. Another shot whistled overhead, but Jane thought it had come from the nearby trees. The cavalry was keeping Haffner in the car, giving him time to find Lisbon. What he wouldn't give for a flashlight.

"Jane!" He heard Lisbon hiss, so he changed direction slightly. A moment later, his outstretched hand met hers and clasped.

"I couldn't get her gun," she whispered. "Is that Cho and Rigsby out there?"

"Yes. You all right?" he replied urgently.

"Fine. Let's find some cover." She tugged at his hand, and he followed. They'd barely reached the safety of the trees when they heard another series of shots, followed by Cho shouting, "CBI! Hands on your head!"

Jane looked over his shoulder to see that the driver's door had opened, illuminating him and the guard standing with their hands on their heads. Good, that was two down. They only needed to avoid Schultz and Haffner, who had apparently snuck out of the car since Cho wasn't yelling at him to get out.

"Where's the goddamned SWAT team?" Lisbon muttered as Rigsby appeared near the front of the car, illuminated by the headlights.

"How could we trust one?" Jane whispered back.

"You mean they're out here alone?" Lisbon stopped, then started to turn back.

"Wait," Jane insisted. "You're not armed."

"Rigs'll have a spare."

He dug in his heels, pulling her to a stop. "No. Wait for them to give the all-clear."

"We're not any safer here," she hissed.

A rustle nearby drove home her point, so Jane started moving again. They'd only gone a few steps before Lisbon stumbled, pulling him off balance. He managed to stay on his feet, but Lisbon's hand was yanked out of his grip. He heard her suck in a breath. "Teresa?" he whispered.

"Everybody stay where you are," Haffner shouted from far too close, "or Teresa dies."

A flashlight shone in Jane's face, blinding him. He held up a hand and blinked, making out Lisbon looking more annoyed than terrified, one of Haffner's arms around her waist and his gun to her head. "Ray," he said, trying to keep his terror out of his voice, "you have nothing to gain by killing Teresa. So far we have no evidence that you're Red John. You kill an agent, and there's no walking away."

"What, if I let her go you'll just let me walk away?" Haffner scoffed.

"Yes," Jane said. It was possibly the most honest word he'd ever spoken.

"After ten years of hunting me? I don't think so." He chuckled. "Besides, if your friends are here, they found something, somewhere. Maybe I could outrun them, but maybe not. Maybe I'd rather go out on a high note. I've always regretted not being able to see your face when you found your family. It would be fitting if the last thing I saw was your expression as I killed your second family right in front of you."

Cho yelled, "Give it up, Haffner! Drop the gun, now."

Haffner's smile was bitter as he kept his eyes on Jane. "Shooting is really such a clumsy way to kill someone. I would so much rather make Teresa a work of art. And the baby too, of course. Killing two people at once—it would be my masterpiece. And you would be part of it, your screams mingling with hers as I set her free from the prison she has made for herself. Scream after scream after scream. Harmony and dissonance. Wouldn't you like to see her freed, Patrick? Wouldn't it be beautiful to see her fly free?"

Jane recognized the timbre of his voice and wanted to laugh. "You can't hypnotize a master hypnotist, Ray. And Teresa can spot that a mile away by now. Can't you, love?"

Lisbon made no response, blinking drowsily. Jane felt his heart clench. "Lisbon!" he called sharply.

Haffner laughed, and for the first time Jane heard the insanity in his voice.

"Teresa!" Jane tried again, to no avail. He clenched his fists, nearly panting in his anxiety.

Haffner said, "You trained her too well, Patrick. You made her susceptible so you could play your little games, never thinking someone else could exploit it. Perhaps I won't have to shoot her after all."

Jane fastened his eyes on Lisbon's as Haffner released his hold on her waist, reaching for something in his pocket. The gun wavered ever so slightly as his attention turned to his search.

Lisbon's vacant gaze locked onto Jane's.

Then they were plunged into darkness as the flashlight went flying.

mmm

Lisbon prayed Jane had the sense to duck as the gun went off, still much too close to her head. Half deafened, she yanked at it as she kicked Haffner's legs out from under him, trying but failing not to fall as well. The impact loosened his grip, and she tore the gun out of it, then rolled away as he swung his other hand at her. The faint moonlight glinted off the blade he now held.

"Boss!" Rigsby yelled.

"I'm okay!" she shouted back. "Find Schultz!"

Jane had grabbed the flashlight, but instead of pointing it at Haffner like any sensible person would have done, he swung it at his wrist, knocking the knife out of his hand with a sickening crunch of bone. Then Jane got down on his knees, switching the flashlight to his left hand and holding the blade in his right. "I've waited ten years for this," he said hoarsely. "Is this the same knife? The one you used on my family?"

Haffner sneered at him. "What does it matter? You don't have the guts to use it."

Jane put the blade against Haffner's neck. Lisbon's stomach turned, and she felt cold dread trickle down her spine. "Jane," she said, "I've got him covered."

Jane looked up at her, his face eerily unfamiliar in the shadows the flashlight cast. "This is my right, Lisbon. You've always known that."

She drew in a shaky breath. "If you do this, you'll go to prison. I need you, Patrick. Our baby needs you. Is your revenge worth leaving us? Missing your child's birth?" _Please, please_ _listen to me_, she begged him silently. Her free hand went to her stomach, and Jane's gaze followed the gesture.

This was it, she thought, suddenly sick with doubt. This was the moment she found out if the life they'd built together was really what he wanted, or if it had all been a long con after all. If he saw this little life inside her as a beloved child or a mistake made in a haze of lust. If he had ever truly loved her.

Then his eyes met hers, and her knees nearly buckled in relief. He lifted the blade and sat back on his heels, letting out a long breath. His expression was unhappy, but he kept looking at her, letting her know he'd made his choice.

She smiled at him, blinking hard at the tears that were trying to fall. She wanted to thank him, but she was too choked up, hardly able to breathe through the relief and love welling up in her. Part of her had never really believed she could mean more to him than killing Red John, but she shouldn't have doubted him. She never would again, she resolved.

Her shoulder exploded in pain at the same time she heard the gunshot. As she fell, she heard Jane scream, "Teresa!"

Then her head hit something hard and sharp, and everything went black.


	55. Chapter 55

**Author's Note: **And we're safely out of cliffhanger territory! Thanks for bearing with the ending of the last chapter. I tried not to break it there, but the tone of this chapter is so different that in the end I decided I had no choice. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed despite the cliffhanger warning—I really appreciated the support!

**Chapter 55**

Lisbon woke with a tremendous headache, alone in a hospital room smelling strongly of antiseptic. Her head hurt so badly that she wasn't even aware her shoulder ached until she tried to move. A dim memory of being shot came back to her. At least it wasn't the same shoulder as last time. God, was the baby okay? Would she know if something was wrong?

What happened after she was shot? Had they gotten away? But surely if they'd succeeded, Jane would be here, or one of the others. The fact that she was alone argued she was in another Visualize medical facility.

Grimacing, she slid out of the bed, then gingerly made her way to the door and tugged. It resisted for a second, then opened.

This could be her only chance to escape. She had to take it. Pushing down the pain, she slipped into the hallway, looking in both directions. There was an exit sign to her left, so she turned that way, keeping a hand on the wall to steady herself.

She paused at a corner, took a breath, and stepped forward—then let out a shriek of surprise and pain as she ran into a man coming around the corner too quickly. He grabbed at her, so she did the only thing that occurred to her—she kneed him in the balls and ducked out of his grip as he doubled over.

As she stumbled away, she heard a strangled croak. "Boss!"

_Boss?_ She turned, blinking, and realized the man doubled over in front of her was a friend. "Rigsby?"

"Teresa!" The frantic shout came from her room, and she looked up as Jane ran into the hall, skidding to a stop as he saw her. He was missing his vest and jacket and his shirt was only half buttoned; obviously he'd been changing clothes.

Her head was throbbing so badly she could hardly speak, so she was grateful when Jane gently put his arms around her, bracing himself as she leaned most of her weight on him. He grunted a little as if in pain, and she realized there was something thick around his waist. "You're hurt?" she demanded, trying to pull away from him.

"I'm in much better shape than you are," he replied. "Come on, back to bed."

"Sorry, Rigsby," she murmured, embarrassed, as she shuffled past him, Jane's arm around her waist helping her stay upright. "Patrick, the baby?"

"Fine," he replied. "This kid is as tough as you are." He gave a little chuckle, cut off by a grunt of pain. "Beating up poor Rigsby fresh out of your hospital bed is a little extreme even for you, though."

"I didn't know where I was. When I woke up and you weren't there, I just..." She trailed off as they reached her room.

He pressed a kiss into her hair, careful of the bandage covering the back of her head. "Sorry, love. I wanted to change before you woke up. My clothes all went into evidence, and I look terrible in scrubs. Rigsby just got here with my bag."

"What happened?" she asked, frowning.

Jane eased her onto the bed and helped her lie down. "How's your head?" he asked. "They didn't want to give you anything until you woke up."

"Hurts," she admitted. "You told them about the baby, right? They won't give me anything bad for her?"

"I told the EMTs, and then the admitting nurse, and then your doctor. Repeatedly," he assured her.

"What happened?"

They were interrupted by a nurse, who asked her a series of annoying questions, followed by a doctor who did the same. Apparently she had a nasty gash on the back of her head, but the bullet had just grazed her shoulder, so she wouldn't need all the physical therapy she'd had to do last time. She'd be very happy about that later, she knew, but right now she was far more interested in what had happened while she was unconscious.

Lisbon kept hold of Jane's hand and tried to be patient, struggling with her pain and curiosity. Once or twice she looked at him, hoping he'd get rid of the medical team for her, but he just smiled down at her with a tenderness that took her breath away.

When the doctor and nurse left, Rigsby put his head in the door. "Hey, you guys want anything to eat?"

Lisbon groaned in frustration, and Jane said, "No thanks, Rigsby. We're good."

"Back in a minute," he assured them.

"What happened?" Lisbon asked again, just as the nurse returned with pills for her to swallow.

Jane didn't make her ask a third time, speaking as soon as the nurse was gone. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Begging you not to commit murder," she replied.

"And I listened. Then Schultz shot you—just a flesh wound, fortunately. But you smacked your head on a rock when you fell. Rigsby got Schultz in the leg; she's in surgery now, but her life's not in danger."

"What happened to you?" She let go of his hand to feel his stomach through his shirt. There was definitely a bandage there, a large one.

"I dropped the knife when I tried to catch you," Jane said. "Haffner grabbed it and slashed me. It's all a bit of a blur now, but I must have found the gun you took off him. He's dead."

Lisbon grabbed his hand again, and he hurried to reassure her, "Self defense, I promise. Rigsby saw the whole thing."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Never better," he replied breezily.

"Don't do that," she said, frowning at him. "Don't put on your mask with me."

He sighed, abandoning his false cheer and reaching out to stroke her cheek. "I'm tired, and in a little pain. But mostly I'm just grateful we're all alive."

"Are you happy he's dead? Does it make you feel better?" She'd never been convinced it would, but she very much wanted to be wrong.

Jane looked off into the distance. "Not...like I hoped it would. It doesn't change what happened. Angela and Charlotte are still dead. That still hurts. It always will, and I was stupid to think killing him would ever lessen that pain."

The slash on his torso, combined with his clothes being taken as evidence, gave her an idea of how gory Red John's death had been. "Did he say anything?"

Jane shook his head. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" she echoed in astonishment. He couldn't have missed something that important.

He grimaced and said hoarsely, "I thought you were— I didn't know how badly you were hurt. He was just an obstacle I had to get out of my way so I could reach you." He paused. "It's odd, but over the years I built him up in my mind into some big, scary monster. But after all, he was just a man. It only took one bullet."

"You did the world a favor," she said. "And spared us a trial."

"Oh, I think there will be enough of those in our future." Jane recovered his composure. "I look forward to Bertram's. You'll be visibly pregnant by then, which will drive home the magnitude of his crimes."

"They got him? What about Grace—is she okay?"

"Right as rain. And yes, we got him. Stiles gift wrapped him before he vanished into the night. I'm sure he won't surface until he's safely at a Visualize facility in a country without a U.S. extradition treaty." Jane didn't seem too upset about it, but then Stiles had been the one who reunited them. "Cho is rounding up the night staff at the facility for questioning. Anybody in particular you want to press charges against?"

"That doctor," Lisbon said. She wondered if she should mention Allie, but decided not to single her out. She'd done nothing to hurt her, after all. "But they all had to be in on it, I guess. God, Jane, what about all the other disciples?"

"We'll get them," he said softly. "I think Schultz can be a big help. She'll cut a deal if she knows what's good for her. Prison is not a good place for an FBI director."

Lisbon still had so many questions—she had no idea what town they were even in—but sleep beckoned, promising relief from the pain. "You'll stay?"

"Of course I will," he said, gently amused. "You'll have to beat me with a stick to get me to leave your side from now on. Though I would like to finish getting dressed, I'll wait until Rigsby's back so you won't wake up alone again." He squeezed her hand.

"I want to go home, Patrick," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Please take me home."

"The very moment the doctor says you're fit to leave," he promised, stroking her hair.

"All this time, I just wanted to go home." The longing was unbearably strong. She wanted to curl up with him in their bed and feel safe and loved.

"I know," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips. "Soon. I promise. We'll go home together, just the three of us."

She smiled, and slept.

mmm

In between nurses' visits, Jane caught perhaps two hours of restless sleep in the chair beside Lisbon's bed, giving up on any more as the sun rose. He stood and stretched, then bent to kiss Lisbon's cheek. She was curled up on her left side, her only comfortable option since both the back of her head and her right shoulder were bandaged.

He really wanted a cup of tea and maybe some eggs, but he'd promised not to let her wake up alone again, so that would have to wait. Hopefully one of the team would be by to check in soon. Meanwhile, maybe he could sweet talk a nurse into bringing him a cup of tea.

Sticking his head out the door, he was surprised to find Rigsby asleep on a hard plastic chair in the hall, obviously on guard. The poor man was going to be sore in several places, Jane noted. It would really be a kindness to wake him. Glancing back at Lisbon to check that she was still sleeping soundly, he called softly, "Rigsby!"

The agent woke with a snort, flailing for a moment before finding his balance on the chair again. "What?" he muttered, looking around and blinking before recognizing Jane. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Jane assured him. "The chair in here is far more comfortable, if you'd care to occupy it while I search out some tea."

"And coffee?" Rigsby said hopefully, getting to his feet.

"I'll do my best," Jane replied. "I don't think she'll wake up in the next few minutes, but if she does, let her know I'll be right back."

"Yeah, sure." Rigsby failed to smother a yawn. "Hey, Jane, be careful, okay? Cho thinks some of the disciples might be out for revenge."

"Ah." Jane paused, thinking that explained why he was sleeping in a chair instead of at home in bed or out helping Cho. "I'll be careful. Just stay with her."

"Got it."

Jane waited until Rigsby was settled in the chair beside Lisbon's bed, then went to the nurses' station. It took no effort to charm directions to the vending room out of the tired woman there, especially when Jane offered to refill her coffee mug. He made that delivery first, then took his paper cup of liquid purporting to be tea and Rigsby's coffee back to the room.

"Thanks," Rigsby whispered, getting up to take the coffee. "Grace texted that she's on her way. She's going to bring something for breakfast."

Jane thought that Rigsby's anticipation was doomed to become disappointment when he realized Grace's healthy eating habits were going to be extended to him during her pregnancy. He'd be lucky to get a whole wheat bagel, if not some kind of granola. Hm. Maybe he could entrust Lisbon's diet to Grace on occasion and take poor Rigsby out for a cheeseburger. It was going to be an interesting seven and a half months.

Jane realized he was grinning like a fool and composed his expression.

"What?" Rigsby asked warily.

"Just thinking about the shift in team dynamics now that four out of five of us are expecting," Jane answered.

Rigsby didn't share Jane's lighthearted view of the situation. "Yeah, well, Grace is talking about finding a cyber security job. She says one parent getting shot at on a regular basis is enough for any kid."

"She's right." Jane decided not to mention his evolving plan to get Lisbon promoted out of the field.

Part of the plan was to make her think it was her idea, so telling Rigsby was an unnecessary risk. "We'll miss her, though."

"Yeah, well, with her and the boss both out of the field for the time being, we'll have a lot to adjust to," Rigsby sighed. "Nice timing, man."

"I could say the same to you," Jane retorted. "And I wasn't the one buying the cheap condoms!"

"Yeah, because you weren't buying any, just stealing mine!" Rigsby shot back.

"I put money in your pocket at reasonable intervals," Jane argued. "In fact, I even upped the amount in hopes you'd spring for better ones."

Lisbon sniffed loudly. "Coffee?" she murmured, blinking.

Both men looked down at her. Jane had the feeling his smile was unbearably sappy, but when she smiled back, he didn't care.

"Are you two seriously arguing about birth control? Isn't it a little late for that?" She started to move, grimacing as she tried to sit up.

Jane immediately helped her sit up. "Easy there. And no, you can't have any coffee. Unless Grace brings you decaf."

Lisbon stuck her hand out. "Rigsby."

He looked alarmed. "Um, yeah, Boss?"

"Give."

Jane gave Rigsby a look threatening dire consequences if he complied. The poor man suddenly looked like he was facing a firing squad.

"Oh, relax," Lisbon snapped. "I just want to smell it. It's the only thing I've smelled in ages that hasn't made me want to throw up."

Rigsby handed her the cup, glancing at Jane as Lisbon took a deep breath and smiled. "Well, uh, since you're awake now, Boss, I'll give Grace a call and let her know about the decaf."

"Thanks, Rigsby," Lisbon said, handing him the cup back.

Rigsby grinned briefly at her and left. Jane waited until the door closed before saying, "I asked them to give you something for the nausea. You need to eat."

"Yeah, I'm actually hungry," she said, sounding surprised. "What time do they serve breakfast around here?"

"When Rigsby gets back, I'll go find out."

"Then we'll get out of here, right?" She tried to sound commanding, but her eyes were hopeful rather than determined.

"We'll talk to the doctor," he replied.

She scowled. "Oh, don't give me that. You've broken out of jail. You could break me out of here and take me for a big diner breakfast without even breaking a sweat."

She certainly knew how to appeal to his weak spots, he reflected. "If it were just you and me, maybe. But we have someone else to think about now."

"Oh, now he decides to play by the rules," she muttered, but he could tell she accepted his reasoning and wasn't really upset. She looked at him for a minute, seeming puzzled. "How are you feeling?"

"Me? Never better," he smiled. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you're on pain meds. You seem kind of...manic."

He chuckled. "My dear, I'm positively giddy. I have you back, I'm going to be a father again, and the psychopath threatening us is dead. What more could any man ask?"

That didn't ease her look of concern. "I guess I just expected...there's a lot to process."

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, taking her good hand in his. "You mean you think I should be off somewhere brooding? I'm sure I'll find time for that after I've got you safely home, tucked up in bed with a full stomach and a catalog full of ridiculously expensive baby furniture." He paused. "Do you want to start looking at houses? Something with a nice backyard?"

Lisbon scrunched up her face. "And which one of us is going to mow this backyard of yours?" she asked suspiciously.

He chuckled again. "A lawn service, of course."

Predictably, she rolled her eyes. "Next you'll be bringing me resumes of nannies."

"I'm not opposed to daycare if we can find one we both like. But I admit I'd rather have a nanny for the first year, at least."

"You've known about this baby for what, twelve hours, and you've already thought about all this?" She looked incredulous.

"We've been married for almost four months. I've thought about it in theory for a while now." He didn't think it would help to point out that he'd been through this before. A new thought occurred to him, making his stomach hurt. "I know you're still getting used to the idea, but if this is something you don't want—"

"No," she said immediately. "Of course I want the baby. I just...for the few days I've known, my main concern was whether you'd ever meet her, or ever even know you had another child."

He carefully slid his arms around her, mentally kicking himself. Of course she was traumatized by what she'd been through, and he needed to give her time to recover before making her face all the changes their life was about to undergo. They could move after the baby was born, and daycare could wait too. The only urgent issue at hand was her recovery.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. I intend to be one of the first faces she sees." He paused. "I notice you keep saying 'she.' Do you think it's a girl?"

"How would I know that?" She grumbled into his chest. "I just started thinking that because Red John wanted a boy."

He smiled; that was his contrary Lisbon, all right. "Okay, she's a she unless the ultrasound shows otherwise." Because of course control freak Lisbon would want to know the baby's gender as soon as possible. There was no way she'd want to be surprised, and given her current frame of mind, he wouldn't tease her by arguing the merits of not knowing.

"But you said you wanted a boy, back when we were pretending," she frowned.

"It doesn't matter," he assured her. "I'm just thrilled to have another chance, either way."

There was a knock at the door, and Lisbon sat back as a nurse came in. "And how are we feeling today?" she asked brightly.

Lisbon replied, "Hungry."

"That's a good sign. Breakfast will be here in a minute. I just need to check your vitals."

Jane took the hint and moved off the bed, reclaiming his spot after the nurse left for the few minutes until breakfast arrived. Lisbon tore into it ravenously, looking up midway through. "You want some?" she asked with obvious reluctance.

"I am not nearly hungry enough to take food out of my child's mouth," he assured her. "Besides, I'm sure Grace will be here any minute."

Sure enough, Grace arrived just as Lisbon was finishing. She smiled brilliantly as she came in, trailed by Rigsby staring disconsolately at the bran muffin in his hand. "Boss, I'm so glad you're okay," she said, handing her what smelled like a latte. "And congratulations! I'm thrilled for you."

"Not me?" Jane teased.

"Of course, you too," Grace said, reaching into her bag and handing Jane a blueberry muffin.

"Hey," Rigsby said, "how come he doesn't have to eat bran?"

"He's hurt," Grace replied. "How's your appetite, Boss? Because I got you a bear claw, but if you're—"

Lisbon practically snatched the bag out of her hand. "Grace, you are a godsend!" She tore into the bear claw like a starving woman, and Jane took a big bite of his muffin to disguise his grin.

Grace turned to Jane. "Cho said to tell you he and Moore are on their way. They need your statement, and he figured it was easier for them to come to you."

He grimaced, and Grace continued, "Go get some real breakfast before they get here. The boss and I have a lot to talk about. I'm so glad to have a pregnancy buddy!"

Jane purposely ignored Lisbon's pleading look, though he was sure he'd pay for it later. He needed the fortification of eggs before he relived last night, and he'd rather not be in here when Moore cornered him. It would be easier to avoid Lisbon hearing the whole story that way. He clapped Rigsby on the shoulder. "Come along, Rigsby. I guess we get to be pregnancy buddies too."

Rigsby choked on his muffin, but he followed Jane out the door. Female laughter followed them down the hallway.

Yes, Jane reflected, he was definitely going to need reinforcements.


	56. Chapter 56

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm having a hard time with the idea of letting this story finish, apparently. Thanks to all of you who let me know you feel the same way! I hope the rest of you won't get too impatient with me while I indulge myself in a long wrapup. A couple more chapters, probably.

**Chapter 56**

One look at the dismal egg-like substance on offer in the hospital cafeteria was enough to dim even Jane's euphoria. Rigsby correctly interpreted his expression and offered, "I saw a diner down the street last night."

"No. I don't want to leave Teresa." Jane decided he would settle for some oatmeal with fruit. The blueberries looked good, at any rate. And at least there were tea bags and hot water available. Rigsby got a plate piled high with home fries, and they sat down at a table near the door.

"So," Rigsby said, "can I ask you a question?"

Jane suppressed the flippant answers that sprang to mind. Rigsby and Cho had really put themselves on the line to rescue Lisbon, so the least he could do was be cooperative. For a while, at least. "Sure."

"I've been thinking about asking Grace to marry me. Do you think—how can I get her to say yes?"

Jane smiled. "Grace is a traditional girl at heart, Rigsby. Go buy her a nice ring, something that won't get in her way at work. Take her out for dinner at some trendy health nut place, get down on one knee, and tell her that her smile lights up your life, or whatever. Write it in advance and memorize it so you won't forget it in the middle. And do it soon, so she can pull together a wedding before she starts to show."

"Right. Health nut place?" He looked pained.

"It will show solidarity with her desire to eat the best possible diet for your child. But you should figure out where to take her for dessert to celebrate after she says yes."

"Right. Thanks!" Rigsby sipped at his coffee, then said, "I asked Sarah, you know, after we found out about Ben. But she said no. I don't want Grace to think this is just because of the baby."

"Well, is it?"

"No! I mean, the timing, okay, yeah. But I can't really imagine being with anyone else anymore. It's always been her."

"Then make that part of your proposal," Jane advised.

"Okay. Thanks." Rigsby looked thoughtful as he shoveled a forkful of home fries into his mouth.

Jane ate his oatmeal, thinking about change. The team had been the one solid thing in his life for so many years that the prospect of it breaking up, even for happy reasons, made him a little melancholy. And he knew it would be hard on Lisbon, who truly treasured her little family. He needed to ensure the rest of their life stayed relatively calm for a while. No matter how much he wanted to celebrate their freedom by whisking her off to all the best romantic spots in Europe or start furnishing a nursery fit for a little queen, she needed stability while she adjusted to the unavoidable changes at work. He had to restrain himself. That wasn't something he was particularly good at, but he would try.

Rigsby's phone beeped, and he glanced at it, then sent a quick text. "Cho's here."

"Good," Jane said. "Let's get this over with."

Cho and Moore both looked exhausted, obviously having been up all night. Cho greeted them with, "I need coffee. The press is surrounding this place." He headed for the counter.

Jane kept his alarm off his face. There had to be a way to get Lisbon out of here without exposing her to a horde of reporters. She hated them at the best of times.

Moore reached out to shake Jane's hand. "Congratulations," he said. "On getting Agent Lisbon back, I mean, not on your revenge."

And this was what he needed to straighten out, Jane thought. "The first is the only one I care about."

"Of course," Moore said, unconvinced, as he sat down.

Cho returned, setting a cup down in front of Moore and taking a long sip of his own. "The FBI's locked down the facility. They're tracking down the staff who live elsewhere, too."

"Lisbon wants the gynecologist charged," Jane said.

"Right. How is she?" Cho asked.

"Fine. I'm hoping to take her home after we talk to the doctor. Let's get this over with," Jane replied. He gave a brief recap of the night's events, from Stiles' call asking to meet to the abrupt end of the poker game. He'd briefly been over some of it with Rigsby last night, to let him know to track down Manchester, Bertram, and Stiles.

When he paused to take a sip of tea, Cho said, "Bertram claims he was there visiting a friend and that anything you say is just part of a plot to get Lisbon promoted."

"Idiot," Rigsby snorted.

Jane had to agree. "That might be plausible if Lisbon had any interest in being promoted. He's guilty of colluding in her kidnapping if nothing else. Her testimony is all we need."

"So after the car ran over the spikes we put in the road, Lisbon and Schultz got out," Cho prompted.

"Yes, Teresa was nauseated again. I hoped she'd get clear before the shooting started. It didn't quite work out that way." He recounted how they'd found each other in the dark, then their encounter with Red John and how Lisbon had taken him down. His heart squeezed in remembered terror as he described it. "I had the knife, but I didn't cut him. Teresa had him covered with his gun."

"Actually," Cho said, "it turned out to be hers. He must have wanted to confuse things if he needed to shoot someone."

"Hm." Clever, Jane thought, if risky. But then, Haffner had been arrogant enough to believe he wouldn't get caught with Lisbon's gun. "Anyway, I thought it was over. Then someone shot Teresa."

"That was Schultz," Rigsby said. "I didn't have a fix on her until she fired."

Jane knew better than to appear completely calm during this part of the story, but he didn't want to share his feelings with Moore, either. He settled for a troubled expression and a slight hoarseness, neither difficult to achieve when he thought about what had happened—and what might have happened. "I dropped the knife and tried to catch Teresa, but Haffner grabbed the knife and swung at me. He slashed my stomach. I jumped away from him, trying to get between him and Teresa. She was unconscious, and I couldn't tell if she was breathing." He broke off to swallow and clear his throat. "I was trying to feel for her wrist when I found the gun instead. And when he swung at me again, I fired." He paused again, letting his tone become wondering. "I didn't even look to see if he was dead. All I wanted to know was that Teresa was alive. Then Rigsby came over and told me an ambulance was on the way."

Actually, what Rigsby had said was, "Holy shit, you blew his brains out!" It was only after he'd turned away that he'd added the part about the ambulance. By then Jane had pulled Lisbon into his lap and ascertained that she was breathing.

Moore nodded. "You're saying it was self defense, then. Not revenge."

"They're not mutually exclusive," Jane couldn't resist pointing out. "But yes, revenge wasn't on my mind. I just wanted to keep him from hurting my wife. My pregnant wife." Jane paused, making sure he looked Moore straight in the eye. "It was about saving my family."

Moore held his gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly. Turning to Rigsby, he asked, "That tallies with what you saw?"

"Yes," Rigsby said. "He cut Jane pretty bad, and he had the knife up like he was going to try again. I was aiming for him when Jane beat me to it."

"Yeah," Cho said. "Me too."

Moore nodded again. "Well then, I'll need formal statements, but it appears justified."

"It was," Rigsby said, just as Cho said, "Damn straight."

Jane felt a rush of affection. It had been dark and chaotic, and there was no way they could be completely certain Haffner had still been a threat. But they would swear to it in court if they had to, because they knew Red John had deserved to die. And because they didn't want Lisbon put through having her husband tried for murder. And maybe, a little, because they wanted to keep him around.

"Good," Moore said. "Can I speak with Agent Lisbon?"

Jane said, "I'd rather you waited until the doctor clears her. She's been through a lot in the past week, and I don't want her under any unnecessary stress."

"I won't interrogate her until she's ready," Moore promised. Then he smiled wryly. "You two are the heroes of the hour. I'm just hoping we can say it was a joint investigation, even though you didn't call me until it was time for the cleanup. Though since my boss was one of Red John's people, I can't say I blame you."

Cho said, "Our boss was too."

Rigsby grinned. "We arrested our bosses. We're living the American Dream!"

Jane said, "I don't care about getting credit, but I want to make sure Teresa gets her fair share."

"Of course," Moore agreed.

"In fact," Jane said, "if you would distract the press by making a statement while I take her out the back door, we would both greatly appreciate it."

"I'd be happy to," Moore said. "Cho and Rigsby, care to join me?"

"And Grace," Rigsby said quickly.

Jane shook his head. "One of you needs to come with us. There may be disciples out for revenge. I want Teresa guarded when we're in public."

"I'd offer FBI help, but I doubt you'd trust it," Moore said.

"You want to be careful too," Jane told him. "If you're taking part of the credit, you'll become a target as well."

Rigsby frowned. "Maybe Grace and I will skip the press conference. You know, to make sure Lisbon and Jane get home safe."

Cho wasn't fooled, but Jane could tell he had accepted his role as front man for the team, since he was the only one not expecting a child. "Sure. You should do that."

Rigsby's phone beeped, and he looked at the text. "Grace says Boss wants you back up there, Jane. The doctor just showed up."

Jane jumped up and headed for the elevator. The others caught up with him just as it arrived. When they were safely inside, he said, "I don't want Teresa upset. She's going to ask about what happened. There's no need to get into graphic descriptions." Like the fact that he'd been covered in Haffner's brain matter until he'd cleaned up at the hospital. The shot had been point blank.

"Right," Cho said.

Jane took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as the elevator doors opened. Lisbon had seemed fine, but head injuries could be tricky. He really wanted to take her home today, but they weren't leaving without the doctor's approval.

Grace was standing in the doorway, on the lookout. She smiled and stepped into the hall when she saw Jane, letting the door swing shut behind him so he and Lisbon could speak to the doctor in private.

Jane focused on Lisbon first, taking in her calm expression and deciding the news must be good. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "Patrick, this is Dr. Overbeck."

"We met briefly," the older man said, reaching out a hand for Jane to shake. "Last night."

"Yes," Jane agreed, wincing internally at the impression he must have made. He summoned up a charming smile. "I wasn't at my best, I'm afraid."

"Understandable. I'm just happy to have good news for you." The doctor turned back to Lisbon. "Everything looks good; the swelling on your head has gone down, and you're not showing signs of concussion."

Jane asked, "Then why was she unconscious for so long?"

The doctor shrugged. "I take it Agent Lisbon has been through a rough time lately, not sleeping well?"

"Yes," Lisbon said.

"Then there's your answer." He smiled reassuringly at Jane. "She was exhausted, so she slept. She did wake up briefly while we were stitching her up, and she must have realized she was safe."

"So I can go home," Lisbon said, glancing at Jane to see if he was going to object.

"Yes. If you can make it through the crowd outside," Dr. Overbeck chuckled. "You're quite the celebrity, apparently."

Lisbon looked alarmed. "What?"

"Don't worry," Jane assured her. "Cho and Stan are going to give a press conference while Grace and Rigsby help us sneak out the back."

"Oh, good." Then she narrowed her eyes at him. "What else did you decide while you were gone?"

"Just that. So, Doctor, what do I need to get her out of here? Discharge instructions?"

"Yes. But to put it simply, if she has any severe headaches, dizziness, or shows any sign of mental impairment, she should see a doctor immediately." He turned back to Lisbon. "And get some sleep. Early pregnancy can be more of a strain on your system than you think."

"I'm going to take a nice long nap as soon as I get home," Lisbon told him.

"Excellent. That's the best thing you can do, as long as someone checks on you every so often."

"Don't worry about that," Jane said.

The doctor wished them well and left. Lisbon fixed Jane with a look. "You're going to drive me crazy, aren't you?" she said.

Jane grinned. "I am going to coddle and pamper you until you're rested enough to fight back. And then I'm going to wait on you hand and foot until well after you've had the baby."

She rolled her eyes. "And then you'll devote all your energy to spoiling the baby rotten."

"Yes. But I assure you that I will not neglect the care of my beautiful wife, no matter how gorgeous and irresistible our daughter turns out to be." He leaned down to kiss her.

She returned the kiss, but when he straightened back up, she asked softly, "What happened that you aren't telling me?"

"I told you what happened, love. Ask Cho or Rigsby if you don't believe me."

"Where is Cho?"

"Just outside. I figured you'd want to see him. Should I get him now?"

"Yes. He's got too much to do to be sitting around in a hallway."

Jane smiled. That was Lisbon, still in charge even while she was on medical leave. Hm. He was going to need a plan to keep her from trying to work through her maternity leave, possibly involving her cell phone and the diaper pail.

He stuck his head into the hallway. "Hey, Cho. Lisbon says to stop slacking off and get in here."

Cho's expression as he got up clearly said something dire about Jane's odds of survival under his command, but it dissolved into an actual smile when he saw Lisbon. "Good to see you awake, Boss."

"Thanks. And thanks for keeping Jane from getting himself into too much trouble while I was gone," Lisbon replied.

"You're welcome. Just don't stick me with the job permanently." Cho gave her a quick rundown of what he'd been doing all night. "We'll need your statement, but it can wait until you're out of here."

"The nurse is bringing the discharge papers any minute now," Lisbon said optimistically.

"Good. Moore and I will get to work on our diversion for your escape," Cho said. "Rigsby and Van Pelt are your escorts. Until we know how many disciples we need to be on the lookout for, we need to be careful."

"Yes, we do. That means you stick with Moore, right? I don't want any of us out alone," Lisbon said. Then she frowned. "You trust him?"

Cho moved his eyebrows infinitesimally to indicate skepticism. "Not sure I trust anybody outside our unit. But Moore's looking at a major career boost right now. He's got nothing to gain by loyalty to a dead man, even if he is a disciple. And I don't think he is."

"Neither do I," Jane put in, because Lisbon trusted his judgment when it came to spotting criminals, even though his faith in his own abilities was somewhat shaken by his failure to spot Haffner.

"Okay. Just be careful," Lisbon said.

Cho nodded. "And Moore's not the only one looking at a career boost. The AG wants to talk to you as soon as you're back at work."

"Me?" Lisbon looked shocked. Jane watched in fascination as she processed what Bertram's arrest meant for the CBI. Since Wainwright's position still hadn't been filled, there was nobody to take charge of the media shitstorm that was going to follow the revelation that Red John was a former CBI agent. "Oh, crap."

"Don't worry, Boss. You rest and recover. I got this."

"Thanks," she said in relief. "Hey, if you play your cards right, maybe you'll get Wainwright's job."

"Don't want it," Cho said instantly. "All paperwork and political BS, plus having to explain what the hell Jane's done now to the director, who'll probably turn out to be a jerk."

Jane seized on the opportunity. "Actually, I was thinking about retiring."

Lisbon and Cho both stared at him. "What?" he asked innocently. "I don't need to hunt Red John anymore. And I'm thinking I might like to be a full-time dad this time around. I mean, who's to say our next boss won't be a complete ass? None of the people I trust want the job, and the new guy probably won't care about the cases I close if I make trouble doing it. So I'd just get fired anyway."

Cho said, "Yeah. And with two kids to support, you'll never get Rigsby in on another scheme that gets us all suspended. Besides, there's way less chance of Lisbon divorcing you if you don't endanger her job every other week."

"I see what you two are doing," Lisbon said darkly. "Cut it out. I don't want that job either."

"Of course not," Jane said. "But that's another reason for me to stay home, since the baby will hardly ever see you."

Lisbon made a face, but he could see the horrified realization in her eyes as she pictured their family life, or lack thereof, with her current schedule. Satisfied, he decided to change the subject. "But we don't want to bore you with our domestic arrangements, Cho. What are you going to say at the press conference?"

"Red John's dead. We caught a bunch of his disciples and are looking for more. Both the FBI and the CBI are cleaning house. And all thanks to the leadership and dedication of Agent Teresa Lisbon and Special Agent Stan Moore." Cho delivered the entire speech in a perfect monotone.

Jane applauded politely. "I like it. Very sound-bitey."

"I don't," Lisbon objected. "You and Rigsby and Van Pelt deserve credit too."

"Not me?" Jane teased.

"You don't need credit if you're retiring," Lisbon retorted.

Cho said, "Anybody who gets credit becomes a target for disciples who want revenge. You already are, but I'm keeping Rigsby and Van Pelt out of it, as far as the media's concerned."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Lisbon frowned. "Maybe I should do the press conference instead of you?"

"No," Jane and Cho chorused.

Jane continued, "We're going to stay under the radar for a while. Maybe go to Chicago and see your brothers and their families. Hey, we could have that church wedding you wanted while we're there."

He realized his mistake instantly, catching the panic that flashed in Lisbon's eyes, and added, "Or we can just hide out at home, watch movies, and indulge ourselves in complete sloth."

Cho remarked, "You're not on medical leave, Jane."

Jane grinned at him. "You really want me around talking to the press?"

"Medical leave it is," Cho said without hesitation.

mmm

Lisbon was grateful that Jane had asked Van Pelt to bring her bag from her car, but she thought the big sunglasses and oversized coat he had gotten somewhere were overkill. As it turned out, no reporters were near the door they used—they were all out front yelling questions at Cho and Moore.

Once they were safely in the backseat of the SUV, she made Jane help her out of the coat and took off the sunglasses. Then she leaned against him, sighing in contentment as he slid an arm behind her to rest on her hip. She just wanted to go home. After a day to rest, she'd have to jump back into work, because it wasn't fair to leave the whole mess to Cho and the others.

Jane, of course, would have other plans. She'd have to keep an eye on him or she'd find herself on a plane to some ridiculously expensive destination. His instinct would be to keep moving, because if he sat down and thought about Red John's death, he would have to start dealing with all the feelings associated with his family's deaths. He'd barely scratched the surface when he'd sold the house, she thought, sliding her arm around his waist. And it would be better for both of them if he worked through his emotional issues before the baby arrived, because that was sure to be a very emotional time all on its own, and she wanted him fully present for it, not mired in his memories.

Jane kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Stop thinking so hard."

"There's a lot to think about," she sighed.

"And it will all seem more manageable once you're home and have a nap and a good meal," he replied.

He was probably right, she realized. "Okay, so tell me what you're thinking about."

He chuckled softly, his breath ruffling her hair. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling. She'd missed him so fiercely that his presence was almost overwhelming, and she just wanted to rest against him, sleep for a few hours, and then pick up their life where they'd left off.

Only that wasn't possible, she realized. As much as they'd tried to keep Red John out of their marriage, there was no denying he'd been a huge influence. It wasn't just that their wedding had been a response to his threats and full of reminders of him, from the fact that they'd all been armed to the smiley face cake. They'd moved to their apartment to feel safer from him. Practically every decision they'd made had taken him into account. Now that he was gone, would they be able to adjust?

Jane murmured, "I'm thinking about how much I'm going to enjoy being married to you without worrying about a serial killer hurting you." He paused, then added, "And how relieved I am not to have to worry about condoms anymore."

She couldn't help the brief laugh that escaped her.

"And," he whispered, "how you are going to be surprised at how quickly we'll adjust to him being gone. Because we managed to be happily married even while he was skulking around the shadows, so we're going to be absolutely blissful now that we don't have to think about him anymore. We'll be one of those couples who are so disgustingly happy that they make innocent bystanders nauseated just walking down the street."

She grinned. "When I'm not yelling at you for making me work late because you generated extra paperwork on a case."

"Oh, but I'm retiring, remember?"

"Yeah, right. You just said that to make me think I should apply for Wainwright's job so you'd stay on and I could be home for dinner every night."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't recall any of our former bosses getting out of the office much earlier than you usually do. I was just thinking that you'd feel obligated to step in on an interim basis while you're confined to desk duty anyway. You know, to make sure things are done right rather than leaving it to some unknown person who may turn out to be incompetent."

Lisbon sighed again. "Well, that might make sense. Only on an interim basis, though. And you have to promise to behave for Cho. And stop talking about retiring like you're an old man."

"I see your devious plan," he said. "You need me to keep up the bureau's case solution rate to make you look good while you're the interim boss. And you don't want me out scouting for a house on thirty acres where we can keep our daughter's pony."

"I am not moving to a horse farm," Lisbon warned him.

"But boarding horses is needlessly expensive, and not nearly as much fun," Jane replied.

She thumped him lightly on the chest to let him know he'd better be teasing her. Then she yawned.

"Have a nap, darling. I'll wake you when we get home."

"No making plans without me," she told him firmly.

"Only menu plans," he promised.

Lisbon tucked her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting his warmth relax her. She felt so much better with him safe in her embrace. The relief was so intense it reminded her of how she'd felt back at the beginning, when Red John had messed with her head. But this was better, she comforted herself. Back then she'd been afraid of losing him to the killer, of him running off again and disappearing, this time for good. But she didn't have to worry about that anymore. Red John was dead, and Jane had chosen her and the baby over his revenge, proving where his priorities lay. He wasn't going anywhere. Ever. Secure in that knowledge, she let herself drift off.

She woke when Jane pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and said, "Wake up, love. We're home."

She blinked and sat up, rubbing at her eyes and looking out the window at their apartment building. "How long did I sleep?"

"Three hours," he smiled. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, I guess." Actually, her head felt worse, probably because the painkillers were wearing off.

"We'll get you something when we get upstairs," Jane assured her. "The doctor gave you a prescription, but he thought over the counter stuff might be enough."

"I know. I was there," she reminded him as he opened his door. He slid out, then offered his hand to help her. She took it, deciding it was better to be prudent than stubborn right now.

Van Pelt and Rigsby went about the normal sweep and camera check when they got inside the apartment. Lisbon opened her mouth to tell them not to worry about it, then remembered there might still be threats. She looked at Jane, who was picking up random dishes and paper strewn around the living room. His fussing was sweet, but unnecessary. "Do you think any of the disciples will want the baby? To carry out his plan?"

"No," Jane said, a little too quickly. "The ambitious ones will try to take up the reins themselves. The meek ones will probably slide back under Stiles' control, secretly relieved. I bet he has the reeducation seminars all scripted out."

Lisbon sat down in her favorite chair. "Why did Stiles bring you?"

Jane carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers, which he handed her. "Haffner wasn't the only one thinking about succession. Bret's not getting any younger, and he must have started to realize that Haffner was planning to take over Visualize after his death. Maybe he even thought Haffner would get impatient and kill him. He must have decided that having me expose Red John was the lesser of the two evils. Haffner kidnapping you was Stiles' opportunity to make me clean house for him."

"Did you know that going in?" she asked.

"No, though I suspected it would turn out to be something along those lines when Bret invited me to go for a drive with him. At the time, I wasn't concerned with anything except finding you. Do you want to lie down? Or have an early lunch?"

"I'd really like to take a nice long bath," she said. She'd rushed through bathing at the facility, unsure of her privacy. It would have to wait until the sweep was done, though.

"I'll draw it for you in a minute. Any requests for lunch? I might have to run to the store," he said, frowning.

From the looks of the place, he'd had at least one roommate while she was gone. She was grateful he hadn't been alone, but she didn't want him to leave. "Can't you order in?"

He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. Yes, she would normally be against such an extravagance, but this was a special case. "What a good idea," he said. "Craving anything?"

"No. I'll be happy with whatever you want to cook that isn't made for a hundred people."

Rigsby and Van Pelt came in and reported that all was well. Lisbon submitted to a hug from her pregnancy buddy—she'd have to make it clear that couldn't continue at the office—and then she was alone with Jane at last. They fell into each other's arms, needing no words, just the reassurance of each other's presence.

After a while, Lisbon pulled away, gave Jane a kiss, and headed for the bathroom. Jane followed her, starting the water running and then helping her undress. There was nothing sensual about it, she knew; Jane was in full caregiver mode. His lingering looks were not admiration, but him cataloging her injuries. Damn, she'd almost forgotten about the bruises Kirkland had left.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

He summoned a sly smile. "Yes, you are." Kneeling to help her out of her jeans, he paused, pressing his lips to her belly and whispering something. She couldn't make out the words, but the feel of his lips and breath on her skin was at once arousing and soothing. The realization that he was talking to their baby brought a rush of unaccustomed tears, and she rested her left hand on his head, running her fingers through his curls. He slanted a mischievous smile up at her, quickly sobering when he saw her face.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he murmured, standing and wiping her wet cheeks. "Please."

"I'm okay," she said, managing a smile. "I am. Really."

"I know," he said. "Just tired and emotional. Something we'll both have to get used to." He finished undressing her, shut off the water, and reached for the bath salts, then hesitated. "Aromatherapy might not be the best idea right now."

"I don't need anything," she agreed, heading for the tub. Jane stopped her, taking her good hand and putting his free one on her waist to steady her as she stepped into the bath, then helping her lower herself into a sitting position.

"You need to be careful about falling," he reminded her. "Especially since you have one hurt arm and a head injury. Call me when you're ready to get out."

"Okay," she said, closing her eyes. "Hand me the bath pillow, would you?"

He gently slid the pillow behind her head, adjusting it as she leaned back so she wasn't putting pressure on her cut. Then he stroked her cheek with one finger. "I love you," he whispered.

She hummed a little in contentment. "I love you too." When he kept stroking, she opened her eyes a little. He'd sat down on the floor beside the tub and was looking at her with naked adoration. "What?" she asked, feeling her cheeks heat.

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch," he mused. "And crockpot pot roast for dinner."

That sounded perfect. "With potatoes and gravy?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course." He smiled. "Comfort food."

She closed her eyes again, content. He knew her so well, and he never forgot any detail she told him about her childhood, no matter how minor—like what her mother used to make for Sunday dinner and what her favorite lunch had been when she was little. He was an attentive and thoughtful husband, and he was going to be a marvelous father.

"So I guess I'd better get the groceries ordered. Feeding Rigsby really cleaned us out." He got to his feet.

"Patrick?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you okay?" This just seemed far too easy.

He smiled down at her. "As long as I have you, I will be."


End file.
